Brooklyn's Secrets
by iheartron547
Summary: What, or who are Brooklyn's secrets? And what drama will unfold, after the strike, when loyalties are tested and what will prevail? Spot, twoOCs, Race and Mush. Only time will tell. Read and review.
1. Chapter 1

**So, as my name says, I heart Ron, which is true. But if you're a CYFTL reader, my other fanfic, you also know I heart Troy and the gang as well. But newsies, I love and my other accoun, newsgoils7, shared with my fellow newsgoils, is my newsie loving account, but I chose to post this fan fic under this name. Now this chapter is the starter, and any feedback is welcome. It is a Brooklyn Spot-based fic, but the Manhattan newsies will play an interesting role, two of them in particular...**

**So I hope you all enjoy and you will learn more about my two characters that my friend and I created as the story goes on. I hope you enjoy!**

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If one were to rise early enough and stand atop the docks in Brooklyn in the early morning, a glorious sight would meet their eyes; the sun rising and shedding it's first rays of light upon the Brooklyn Bridge, reflecting light off the river beneath it.

Early mornings often found a certain blue-eyed newsie watching this sight, lost in thought and taking time alone. Those who knew he spent time there left him alone; it was common knowledge that an angery Spot Conlon was not someone ideal to spending time around. Indeed, that was true, as a certain Mr. Joseph Pulitzer now knew all to well, or without Brooklyn, the 'Hattan newsies would have never triumphed in the strike.

And that was why Spot took the early mornings for himself- to think in peace, none of which he got during the day, between running the Brooklynites, keeping the peace with other territories, and the ocassional strike. Spot deserved his mornings and everybody knew it. Except maybe...

"Knew I'd find ya heah."

Spot, how had been sitting on his usual perch, jumped at the voice and his hand automatically went to his side, gripping the gold tipped head of his cane.

"Damn yah, Bells! Wha' was dat foah?" Spot asked angerly. The girl named Bells smirked.

"Scared yah?" she guessed. "Oh, an' don' worry. I brought company, jus' like I knew yah would want."

Spot groaned as another girl's head peeped over the bulkhead of the dock.

"Mornin' Spot!" the newcomer greeted cheerfully.

"Twoils, yah to?" Spot let out an agitated huff of discontentment. "Damn yah twins."

"No' nice language," Bells scolded teasingly, for she was one to talk.

"Yeah, dat's no way tah talk tah yoah sistas," Twirls added as she and Bells took a seat on either side of their brother.

"Don' remind meh," Spot grumbled. "I still sometimes wonda how we'se related."

"Well..." Twirls began, but Spot gave her a shove and she shut up.

Spot, though, had a point. The three Conlons could not look any different. For one, while Spot's baby blues could pierce anyone, his sisters-though sharing his glare-has brown eyes, Bells, while Twirls' were hazel. Also in contrast was their hair: Twirls' hair was a chocolate brown, Spot's a dark, dirty blond and Bells blond. The twins were also tall and lanky, nearly taller than Spot, which he hated being reminded of.

The siblings sat in content silence as the sun came up, fully lighting New York City and starting the day's hustle and bustle.

Spot yawned, and as the rising sound of the factories along the water line whirring and getting ready for the days work could be heard, he turned to each twin and said, "Well, time foah anudda day," and held out a hand to pull the two up.

"Thank yah!" Bells said brightly. "Yoah to sweet."

Spot rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm chahming," he agreed. "Now let's go! Yah got a job tah do!"

The twins took off, with Spot trailing behind them, running back to the boarding house, for Spot was right. Bells did have a very importent job to do.

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Every newsie has name- not a nickname, or 'code' name, a name name. A newsie's name is their identity, naturally, but such a big part of themselves and it has meaning. It is not a random choice.

Take Twirls, for example. As a little girl, 'Emma Conlon' would constantly spin and flit about like "the showgirls!" she would say. It was Spot who first called her Twirls. Bells came later, after she had been living in the boarding house. She'd been called Madison or various shortened versions of the name- Mads, Maddy, Mad Maddy, and so on. That changed when she accidentily tripped over a bell McCurdy-the lodging overseer-kept, waking the whole house. It then became her job to wake up the boys, every morning. And she loved it.

"Up, yah bummahs! You'se got papes tah sell!"

Bells walked up and down the rows of bunks, yellling and ringing, shaking or shoving a newsie awake here and there. "UP!"

She, as usual, was met with a response of groans and ducked as a pillow flew by her head.

"Missed meh!" she called tauntingly.

"Damn yah Bells!"

"Spot already took care o' dat, Pockets!" Bells replied to Brooklyn's second-in-command and notorious pickpocket, "But thanks foah da thought." She walked towards his bunk and smirked. That was a major perk of her job. Newsies tended to sleep shirtless and from running around New York all day...the sight just caused her to smile.

"Find, screw yah den," Pockets retorted and pulled the thin blanket over his head.

"Shoah, anytime," Bells said flirtatiously. She knelt down beside him. "Yah know wheah tah find meh. In da meantime..." She yanked his covers off. "Up!"

"An' no screwin' edda." Twirls came up beside her sister. "We'se already got one Conlon messin' around."

Bells rolled her eyes. "It's just a bit o' harmless floitehn."

The pair walked to their bunk in the corner of the room, blocked from view bt a curtain.

"Yeah, well, you an' 'harmless floiten' neva work out well," Twirls replied. She sat down on the bottom bunk as Bells climbed up to the top and hung upside down over the edge, her hat and hair hanging down.

"Wha' is dat suppose tah mean?" Bells asked. "Are yah implying somethin'?"

Twirls bent over and picked up her sister's black wool cap, which had fallen off when she had leaned over, and raised an eyebrow.

"St. Patty's Day, did yearah," she reminded dryly. "Do yah call that harmless?"

Bells bit her lip and tried to recollect the memory. Twirls held back a laugh. She looked rediculous, haning upside down like that.

"Would dat beh the night involving meh, Pockets, and-"

"-half da beer in Brooklyn?" Twirls finished. "Yeah, dat's da one."

"Okay, I seh yoah point," Bells said, sitting back upright and jumping down to sit beside her sister.

"Seh? I'm always right," Twirls said with an obnoxious grin.

"Eh now, don' get carried away," Bells said, punching her lightly on the shoulder. Twirls returned it with a punch of her own.

"Owww!" Bells shrieked dramatically.

"Wimp," Twirls replied.

Commotion rose from the other side of the curtain and with a cry of "Laundry!" a bundle of fabric came flying over the divider. Twirls groaned but called, "Thanks, Suds!" to the washer newsboy.

"Hate these," she grumbled, leaning down and picking up her skirt.

"So don't wear it tahday," Bells replied, looking down at her own ensamble; black trousers cut off at the knee, a white undershirt anda brown, loose collared shirt over top, tied in the center of her chest since there were no buttons. "I'm not."

"But weh didn't yestaday," Twirls reminded, glancing down at her blue cutoffs, black buttondown and vest. "What if the bulls areh out ahgan?"

"Nuttin's gonna happen," Bells said with a wave of her hand, dismissing the issue. "Don' worry."

Twirls looked dubious, but shrugged.

"Fine."

The noise had decreased, going downstairs, meaning the newsies were done and ready to start another day. The sisters followed the horde of boys down the stairs.

Outside, the early morning air was bright and crisp, still cool, but warming as the sun continued to rise up over the city. It would be another warm, early summer day. Bells and Twirls ran to catch up with Pockets and his little brother, Brooklyn's young yet sneaky spy, Bat Ears.

"Mornin'!" Twirls greeted as she and Bells fell into step beside the brothers.

Pockets yawned and replied, "I should beh sleepin'. But no, the lass over heah had to go and ring that damn bell!"

Bells rolled her eyes.

"You Irish boys," she said with a laugh.

"Don' you go testin' me, lass," he retorted.

Pockets was born and had spent his early years in Ireland. Now sixteen, and from living on the streets as a newsie, he had developed the New York Brooklyn accent, but his brogue was still there are particularly strong when he was mad, or any time he was dealing with Bells, usually.

"Sorry," Bells said with a shrug. "Jus' doing my job."

Pockets grumbled something unintelligible.

"Sorry, wha' was dat?" Twirls asked. "Didn' catch it."

"Nuttin'," Pockets said hastily. "Absolutly nuttin'."

"He said some'in about goils doin' da wrong job," Bat Ears put in helpfully. The kid didn't miss a word, hence his name.

"Thank yah," Twirls said, toussiling his hair. "An' Pockets, watch what yah say. Yah know Spot would soak yah if he hoid dat, since you were referring to his baby sista."

"Hoid what?"

Spot appeared in front of the four, jumping down from a statue base. The crowd of Brooklynites, who had been following the quartet, stopped, but Spot gave them permission to go on with a wave of his hand.

"Hoid what?" he repeated, turning to Pockets.

"Nuttin'," replied, shooting a look at his little brother. "Jus' meh complainin' about yoah goilies ova heah."

"Um, that would be _goily_," Twirls corrected. "Yoah mad at Bells, not meh. I didn' have anything tah do wit dis."

"Yoah still both a real pain," Pockets mumbled, so only Spot could hear, and possibly Bat Ears, who heard everything.

"Don' remind meh," came the reply.

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**I hope you all liked it! Any comments are welcome and please review! I'm really excited for this story and I already have the next three chapters written, so review review and I will post! Heart to you all!**

**-iheartron547**


	2. Chapter 2

**So thanks to my ONE reviewer! If you'll keep reading, I'll keep writing. I'm slaving over this story and I really just want to see it up, no matter how many people read it. But reviews would be oh so lovely, so thank you if you do review.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

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Ask any newsie, Brooklynite of course, what was Spot Conlon's most terrifying trait? The response (aside from his infamous glare and cane) would be his secrets. Yes, secrets. And indeed, that was the truth. Spot Conlon was such a complex person, and each secret he carried just made his all the more frightening and mysterious.

Spot Conlon never shared his secrets, naturally, either. He trusted no one and nothing; if he died, everything he knew died with him. That was his outlook on things. But one of his secrets couldn't be kept, no matter how hard he tried.

After Spot had run away from home when he was ten, he tried to forget his past- the emotions, the experience, all of it. He put up a wall and hardened himself to it. He felt no remorse leaving home, with his alcoholic father and frail mother who overworked herself to provide for the family. He was glad to make his own way. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't let go of his eight year old sisters. And that was why when, four years later when he was the right hand man of Brooklyn's leader, in line to be the next king, he made the decision.

Twelve year old Madison and Emma had found him out and he was told of their father's disappearence and their mother's death to cholera. Instead of sending them to live under the care of the Queen of Queens- the only female-run and worked territory- or to the orphanage, something inside of him caved and the arrangement was made for the twins to live with the Brooklynites, who in turn swore with blood that no word of this was to be told to anyone, or the newsie be faced with their final soaking. Only Jack 'Cowboy' Kelley of Manhattan and Grace 'Gambler' Marquez of Queens were told outside of Brooklyn.

So now, four years later, the sixteen year old twins played double lives, working a day in a laundress shop to throw off the bulls, who would go staight to Hurst if the girls were caught and Hurst would then shut down Brooklyn's whole newsie circut. He only allowed his papes to be sold by girls within certain limits set in Queens and he made sure his rules were followed.

"So, headlines any good tahday?" Pockets asked a passing Brooklynite as the group entered the distribution center. The newsie shrugged.

"Da usual," the boy replied. He was a little guy, maybe eleven, and went white when he saw Spot "N-Nuttin' to bad, nuttin' to excitin' edda."

Pockets nodded curtly and the newsboy went on his way, looking warily back at Spot as he ran off. Pockets stalked off to go get his papes.

"Don' scare da kid!" Twirls said. "Yah could talk instead jus' standin' there like dat."

"Don' tell meh wha' tah do," Spot said. "Yoah lucky I'm lettin' yah two even sell tahday. When's da last time you'se wheah at-"

"-da hell hole?" Bells finished, referring to the laundress's. "'Bout a week ago."

"I wanted tah go tahday, but Bells heah said no." Twirls held up her hands, declaring innocence. "Don' blame dis one on meh."

"Thanks. Beh a good sista," Bells snapped back sarcastically. "I'm feelin' da love."

"A'right, enough. Twoils is right, Bells; use yoah head. And Twoils; stop bein' bitchy." He turned and then added, "An' split up tahday, will yah?"

Both girls groaned.

"Come on!" Twirls whined. "We'se a team! Yah don' just break us apart!"

"I do when da rest o' us need tah woik," Spot replied coldly. "All it takes is one o' you goils tah bring down Brooklyn."

"So no pressah," Pockets added, returning with a large stack of papes. He split the pile three ways and held out a hand.

"Pay up," he said, wiggling his fingers. Bells and Twirls handed his coins and shouldered two of the piles. Pockets, every day, bought the papes for the girls and they payed him back. It was just another precaution taken to ensure the no one would find out the girl's true genders.

"A'right!" Spot called loudly, drawing the attention of all of his boys. "Keep an eye out foah trouble an' be back at da docks by sundown. Now carry da banna!"

With a raucous cheer, the boys set out.

"Twirls, go wit Pockets," Spot said. Both twins looked glum at the prospect, Twirls because she hated the boy and Bells because she loved him. Or rather, time with him. "Bells, stay with meh and Bat Ears."

Bells rolled her eyes.

"Yah suck, yah know dat?" Bells complained, moodily walking out of the center.

"Yah told meh dat already," Spot reminded, shouldering his papes and walking after her. "Memba?"

**xXxXxXxXxXxX**

Headline's weren't horrible, but Twirls still was embellishing a bit.

"Fire rages! Oiphans killed! A few gone missing!"

The actual headline read 'Fire at Orphanage: All Saved.' While the first part sold, the whole saving and no death part was a major turnaway. So yes, she was embellishing. And yes, a little more than a bit. But really, who cared about the heroics of the firehorse when no one died?

A pedestrian passing by stopped and said, "One pape, please." Twirls, being polite as the gentleman in a top hat and looked like a big wig, hanged the man a pape and took his money with a chipper, "Many thanks, mista." She made sure her voice came out at a lower octave. The man, clearly thinking she was a boy, walked away without a backward glance. Just to be safe, Twirls touched her hat, making sure her hair was still stuffed under the cap. Bulls seemed to be everywhere today.

"Let's head ova by da fact'ries," Pockets suggested, coming to her side. "Da woikers have break an' maybe dad bull won' be crawlin' around so much."

Twirls nodded.

"Good idea," she agreed and both newsies scampered down the nearby alley and towards the riverline, where the industrial district made its home.

The factory workers, sweaty and covered in soot and dirt, were indeed on a break, just as Pockets had predicted. Plus, no bulls were in sight.

"Good call, comin' heah," Twirls said. Pockets grinned.

"Seh, I ain't so stupid," he replied boastfully. Twirls pursed her lips.

"Hey, don' get carrieid ahway," she said, holding up a hand in a signal to stop. "Yah picked a good spot tah sell. No one said anythin' 'bout yah no' bein' stupid."

It took Pockets a moment to process what her diss had mean, just proving Twirls' point. When he did get it, he grumbled, no so quietly, about "goils and dere mouths bein' in da wrong place." Twirls rolled her eyes and went to sell.

She observed as she sold that many more workmen were purchasing papes, eagerly flipping through the pages in search of an article.

"Wha' is everybody lookin' foah, mista?" she asked, in her boy voice, a man as he held out money, which she exchanged for a pape.

"Oh, we were jus' looking to see if old man Hurst ran anythin' on the newsie rabble," he aswered. Twirls' eyes widened in shock and fought the urge not to show her baffled self.

"An' wha' rabble would dat beh?" she asked, trying to act nonchalant.

The man waved the pape.

"That's why I bought this," he explained and went to sit beside his fellow workers. Twirls ran off before they discovered there was no story and started asking for their money back.

The rest of the day passed by and Twirls heard no more of a rabble, but Pockets seemed tenser as they neared the docks at the end of the day. The majority of the Brooklynites were already there, milling around and jumping into the river.

Twirls quickly scanned the swarm and found her sister sitting on the dock, dangling her legs in the water. She looked so serene, just staring off across the river onto the skyline of Manhattan. Twirls, smiling devilishly as a thought entered her mind, walked swiftly towards her.

Creeping up silently from behind, Twirls yelled, "Boo!" and when Bells jumped, dramatically like she usually reacted to things, Twirls pushed her into the water below, with a satisfying splash.

"TWOILS!"

Bells' scream pierced the air and newsies who heard dashed over to see what was going on.

"Twoils!" Bells cried again, swimming to the side of the dock and, with the help of two of the boys, heaved herself out. She stood up, sopping wet, and gave her sister the infamous Conlon glare. Her hat had fallen off when she had hit the water and one of the boys who had been swimming tapped her ankle and handed it to her. She jammed it back on her head angrily.

"Chilly?" Twirls asked, holding back laughter, which came out once she looked at her sister again. Bells looked ridiculous. "It's a good look foah yah."

Bells shook her head. The newsboys around her were chortling. She shot them a look and the noise stopped instantly.

"Wha' is goin' on?"

All heads turned to see Spot, flanked by Pockets, standing on the bulkhead above them.

"Back tah dah house," Spot said commandingly. "An' no stayin' around and spyin'. Yah know wha' will happen if I catch yah. Which I will."

Heads nodded and the newsies left, running off in all direction, making their usual amount of noise as they did so. Even those older than Spot respected, if not feared, him. He was the King of Brooklyn, chosen by the last leader, and for good reason. That was why all listened to him.

"Now foah you'se two." Spot turned to his sisters, who hadn't gone running. They tended to never listen to him, even when the rest did. Bells had pulled her cap off and was ringing out her hair.

"Wha' the hell happened?"

He jumped down, Pockets behind him, as Twirls replied, "Jus' havin' a lil' harmless fun."

Spot smirked as she watched Bells' quite unlady like reaction.

"Hey now," he warned, directing it to Bells. "Get yoah cap on. We'se got a lot tah talk about."

Bells tied her hair up with her now damp ribbon and pulled her hat over it.

"Okay?"

"Fine."

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Now," Spot continued, "movin' on. I'm guessing you'se hoid some'in about a rabble somewheah tahday."

Twirls nodded.

"I was gonna ask yah about dat," Twirls said. "Wha' happened?"

"Dat's why I sent 'dem home." He jabbed his finger over his shoulder in the general direction of the lodging house. "Cowboy's comin' ova an' so's Gambla, from Queens. We, meaning them two and meh and Pockets, need tah talk."

Bells and Twirls looked at each other, and then back at Pockets and Spot.

"So why areh yah botherin' tah tell us any o' dis?" Bells asked. "Does it involve us?"

"Nah, it doesn'," Spot replied. "But I need yah tah make shoah no one leaved dah house. No one can know wha' is goin' on."

"So yah orda us tah babysit, but won' tell us wha' da heck is goin' on?" Twirls questioned.

"Exactly," Pockets said as the twins moaned.

"Come on, Spot!" Twirls pleaded. "Why can' weh know wha' yoah talkin' about?"

"Stop whinin'," Spot ordered. "An' you can' know foah da same reasons da rest o' da New York newsies can' know about yah two."

"Why would dat beh?" Bells questioned angrily.

"It'll cause trouble, lass," Pockets replied.

"Why, cause we goils?" Bells questioned.

"Mahbe," Pockets challenged. "Or mahbe cause yah got such a big mouth!"

Twirls looked taken back. Pockets and Bells _never _argued.

"Wha' are yah saying?" Bells' temper rose with the volume of her voice. "Dat I can' be trusted tah keep a secret?"

"A'right, enough," Spot said, stepping between the bickering duo. "Pockets, shut up. An' Bells-" his tone softened slightly as he turned to his sister. Well, soft for Spot. "Everyone's gonna know soon. Jus' trust meh and do wha' I'm askin' yah tah."

Bells locked eyes with her brother for a moment and then turned and ran off without a word.

"Sheh'll get ova it," Pockets said. "Jus' forget it."

Spot nodded.

"I wasn' worried," he answered. He looked toward the base of the bridge, which was in view. He held up his hand to block the setting sun from glaring into his eyes and said, "Dere heah."

Turning to Twirls, he added, "I'm trustin' yah. Know go."

Twirls nodded and left the main dock, but doubled back and ducked underneagth the bulkhead, getting as clsoe to where Spot held his meetings as she could. he had said no staying around and spying. No one had said anything about eavesdropping.

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**So it's slightly longer than the last chapter, so I'm hoping this one brings in more reviews. If you're reading this, you know what to do.**

**-iheartron547**


	3. Chapter 3

**Many thanks for love97 and weheartdumbledore224 for reviewing. It means a lot. I'm going to keep going with this even if I only have 2 readers- if people read, I write.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

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Some people in life are brought together by fate, they say, others just mean coincidence. Looking back, Twirls wouldn't have known what to call one particular encounter. A bad hand of fate, maybe, or an uncanny coincidence.

Twirls crouched low under the dock and listened to the stomp of books and the low murmur of voices overhead. She could distinctly pick out Spot's voice, naturally, and she assumed the female's belonged to Gambler, the Queen of Queens, who was given her name for her knack of taking the risky path in life when the opportunity arose.

But two voices wree unknown to Twirls, both male, so Twirls assumed one belonged to Jack Kelley. But who was the second?

"So yah brought Mouth ahlong witout tellin' meh," she heard Spot bark. "Why?"

"Yah know why, so stop bein' stupid," Jack snapped back. "Mouth heah'll talk his way out o' anything an' heh's got da connections."

_Wha' connections? _Twirls wondered. _Wha' connection does a newsie got?_

"So it was yah that planted the story then," Gambler but in. "Wheah'd yah find a pape to do that?"

"The Sun was the first to run it," a non-accented voice explained. Twirls assumed his was 'Mouth.'

"An' den da odda papes picked it up," Jack finished. "Hopefully it scared old Hoist and Pulitzer some."

"Some, but no' enough," Spot said. Under his feet, Twirls' face was a mask of confusion. Why would the newsies be needing to scare Hurst and Pulitzer? Hadn't the strike, hopefully still fresh in the paper tycoon's minds even though it had only been around three months, done that?

"What do yah mean 'not enough'?" Gambler questioned. "I lost two girls to da bulls durin' that rabble."

"An' we'se woiking on gettin' 'em out," Jack retorted. "So stop whinin'."

"Meh? Whinin'? Yeah right, Kelley," Gambler replied, shaking her head.

"A'right you'se two, calm down," Spot said commandinly. "We'se got a real problem heah an' I don' need yah two goin' at it like a married couple."

Twirls stifled a laugh, but apparently not enough since she heard Pockets say, "Did you hear that?"

Twirls felt her heart stop.

"I have a hunch," Spot said quietly. "Everybody stay quiet. I'll beh back."

Twirls stood up and made her way out from under the dock and took off running toward the lodging house. Spot was going to kill her if he found her. When he found her.

She jumped over the stacked crates that littered the docks and made for the maze of back alleyways that led to her destination, instead of the main street. She had almost reached the litter-laden enterence to the alleys when she changed her mind. Spot would expect her to take the alleys, thinking that Twirls would think Spot would look on the main road for her. She turned on her heels and made for the main avenue.

Her boots made a clapping rhythm as she ran for her life toward the lodging house, passing the statue in the street. Twirls was so preoccupied with the thoughts of getting to the house before Spot that she didn't even notice the back of a person standing in her path until PHWACK! they collided, Twirls slamming her head into the stranger's.

"AW! Damn, dat hoit!" she cried, clutching her forehead.

"Yoah in pain?" the masculine stranger's voice shot back. "Yah need tah watch wheah yoah goin'!"

"Sorry," Twirls replied, rubbing her forehead. She realized with a jolt that her hat had fallen off and her hair had tumbled down. She watched in horror as the stranger bent down, picked up her hat and offered it back to her, saying, "Heah's yoah- Jesus, yoah a goil!"

Twirls' thoughts were racing.

_I'm dead, so so dead._

"Um, yeah, thanks," Twirls mumbled, looking down at the cobble stones in the street. She took her hat and stuck it on her head before turning to walk away.

"Hey! Wait!"

Twirls silently moaned and turned back reluctanly, looking up to the meet the stranger's gaze.

"Wha' do yah want?" she snapped, but her heart was thumping wildly.

The boy, obviously a newsie but not a Brooklynite, was cute. Majorly. Twirls took in his curly brown hair, calm eyes and his scruffy, typical newsboy appearence. She had to smile at the fact that he wore his suspenders hanging down around his ankles.

"Wha' do yah want?" she asked again, folding her arms across her chest.

"Yoah a goil," the boy said again.

Twirls shrugged.

"Yoah point?" she said.

"Yoah a goil," he said slowly, "an' dressed as a newsie, in Brooklyn. No' Queens."

Twirls glared.

"Well, yah don' know why I'm heah," she lied. "I could be from Queens. So sorry foah not bein' normal. Now are yah gonna continue tah be dumb and state da obvious? Cause if yah areh, I'm leavin'."

"Nah, I'm sorry," the boy said quickly as Twirls took a step forward. "I'm Mush, by da way."

Twirls stopped.

"I'm-"

"EMMA!"

Twirls turned quickly and groaned.

"I'm dead," she whispered to herself. "So dead."

"Emma!"

Both she and Mush waited where they stood as Spot, Jack, Gambler, Pockets, and Mouth approached.

"Emma, why are yah out heah?" Spot questioned. Twirls noticed how he used her full name. Spot was concious of not blowing the secret and there Twirls was, about to tell the boy she had barely just met her name. At least she lied and said she was from Queens.

Twirls opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

"Dat's wha' I thought," Spot said.

"No, I um-I was-"

"Sheh was helping meh." Mush's voice seemed to come out of nowhere. "I got lost."

"Mush! Yoah heah!" Jack cried, suddenly noticing him. That answered the question on Twirls' mind. Mush was a 'Hattan boy.

"Yeah," Mush said sheepishly, looking down. Jack rolled his eyes and Twirls guessed that Mush getting lost wasn't an unusual occerence.

"Yah got lost," Spot repeated flatly.

"Yeah, so's I was walking tah dah logdin' house and I ran inta Emma heah and she asked if I needed help, since she noticed I wasn't a Brooklynite, so I said yeah and she offered tah take me tah find yah, Jack," Mush said.

_I did? _Twirls thought, but the look from Spot- he clearly wasn't buying any of this- reminded her to go along with the tale.

"Is dat true?" Spot questioned, raising an eyebrow. Twirls glanced over at Mush and nodded.

"Y-yeah, absolutly," she stammered. Spot gave her a look that said, 'I'll deal wit yah lata.'

"Well, areh weh gonna continue the mettin' or are weh done?" Gambler broke in, arms crossed, looking at Spot expectantly for an answer.

"Yeah, Conlon, are we done since-"

Spot cut Mouth off.

"Yeah, we'se done," he said with finality. "I'll let yah know foah next time."

Gambler gave a curt nod and turned, running off at a brisk pace.

"Wait!" Mush called. Gambler, now several yards away, turned and jogged back.

"Yes?" she asked, annoyed.

Mush motioned to Twirls.

"Yah almost left witout Emma," he said. Gambler looked to Spot, confused, but the look from him made the lightbulb go off, telling her to can it and go along with whatever Mush was talking about.

"Right, Emma," Gambler said. "Why don't yah go get Madison-she was sellin 'round heah tahday- and meet me in the usual spot in a few minutes?"

"Shoah, meet yah there," Twirls said, and Gambler gave a wave and was off again.

Jack spit in his hand and held it to Spot, saying, "Till next time, Conlon."

Spot returned the spit shake and said, "Always a pleasah, Kelley."

"Let's go, Mush, Mouth." Mush gave one last look back at Twirls, who felt her face go warm. She prayed she wasn't blushing.

Spot gave a nod to Jack in goodbye as he ran off, flanked by Mush and Mouth, before turning to Pockets and saying something in a low voice. As Pockets ran off, he turned to Twirls.

"Okay, now wha' did yah heah?"

Twirls held up her hands.

"Din' yah heah Mush? I was jus' on da street an'-"

"He also thinks yoah a Queens goil," Spot said. "Now skip da games."

Spot walked over to the statue and pulled himself onto the pedestal. Twirls did the same.

"Okay, fine, I hoid some stuff," Twirls confessed. "But yah shouldn't be yellin' at meh. Wha' areh ya hidin?"

Spot cursed under his breath and said aloud, "Damn yah for bein' so sneaky."

"Well, wha's goin' on?" Twirls asked again, hugging her knees to her chest as the sun set.

Spot sighed.

"I shouldn''t beh tellin' yah any 'o dis," he said.

"I won' tell Bells," Twirls promised, already knowing what her brother's next thought was going to be. Their sister had the biggest mouth in Brooklyn.

Spot nodded and went on.

"Wha' do yah know about da Bronx?"

Twirls thought for a moment. The Bronx? That was Brooklyn's tough next door neighbor, Daggers Smith's territory. And, next to Brooklyn (literally), it was the most feared. Its newsies were rough and tough and Daggers was toughest of all, if not cruel. Territory leaders, Spot in particular, didn't get along with him.

"Da Bronx," Twirls said thoughtfully. "Daggas Smith's territory. Isn't he da one who Bells hooked-"

"Yeah, dat's him," Spot cut her off sharply, clearly not wanting to relive that day.

"So, wha's wrong wit da Bronx, odda then Daggas?" Twirls asked.

"It's no' jus' da Bronx that's da problem," Spot began. "It's Hoist and Pulitzer and da papes. Dere no' sellin'."

"Nah, I did real good tahday-"

"No' newsie sales, Twoils," Spot explained. "Da Bronx sells da Joinal, Hoist's pape, same as us."

"Yeah, I know dat."

"But da distribution centas ova dere are closin', one by one, not like heah. Hoist and Pulitzer, accourdin' tah what we've picked up, are trying tah stop usin' newsies."

"Den who da hell is gonna sell da papes?" Twirls questioned. "Foah rich guys, dey seem dumb."

"Bike boys," Spot said flatly, "deliverin' straight tah da door."

"Dat's stupid," was all Twirls could think to say, she was so stunned.

"Yeah, well, it's startin' in da Bronx," Spot went on.

"So why is Kelly, you, and Gambla gettin' all wound up about it, wit da meetin's and all. It's like da mafia," she said. Spot scowled.

"Tell meh yah did not just compare me tah some Italian group," he said.

"Sorry."

Spot glared.

"So why areh yah guys gettin' all in a knot about it?"

"Cause if da Bronx boys can' sell dere, Daggas is jus' gonna look foah anudda territory tha move tah," Spot answered. "Yah understand why we're tryin' tah attack Pulitzer and Hoist foist radda den fightin'?"

Twirls nodded. That was another thing nobody knew about her brother. Even though he (and his cane) was a great fighter and the Brooklynites were known for their thoughness and strength, Spot hatted the battles. He only used it as a last resort, only used it if he was positive he could win.

Twirls understood why he wanted to attack through press first, especially after the strike. Many Brooklynites had been caught and sent to the refuge, and breaking them out hadn't been easy, which is why Twirls and Bells had to be so careful around the bulls, since they took part in the escape.

But Twirls knew that her brother wasn't going soft, just because he didn't want to fight. Spot was anything but soft.

"So wha's gonna happen?" she asked.

"Right now, we'se jus' trying tah scare old man Hoist, like Pulitzer wit da strike," Spot told her. "And we'se watchin' da Bronx."

"Is dere anything I can do?"

Spot was about to say no, but changed his mind, remembering something.

"Actually, yeah."

**xXxXxXxXxXxX**

**So not much happened, but it was a longer chapter. Thanks also to candyk8 for reviewing. Heart you Notes! And to the rest of my readers, review and thank you!**

**-iheartron547**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yah! This story got some more reviews and some great comments, so many thanks to you all. And some people have added this to their alerts...thanks so much for that and try to review to! I like hearing from you all.**

**I just wanted to say that I know territories had girl newsies and no, Hurst and Pulitzer may not have had a crackdown on them, but for the purpose of the story, just go with it. Oh, and thanks to candyk8. She is the brilliant mind behind the whole 'Queen of Queens' concept. I owe her.**

**So enjoy!**

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The next morning found Twirls with a half asleep Bells tramping through Brooklyn on the way to Manhattan. So being Spot's messanger girl wasn't quite what she had in mind when she offered to help, but at least she knew what was going on, unlike Bells who had no idea why she was even _going _to Manhattan in the first place. And worse, dressed as a usual sixteen year old girl, meaning skirt, apron, pinafore, and cap. Bells was _not _in a good mood.

"So remind me ahgan why we'se goin' tah 'Hattan?" Bells asked sleepily as they pushed their way through the crowds of the morning market.

"Because," Twirls said, grabbing her sister's wrist so they wouldn't lose each other, "Spot needs us tah tell Kelley some'in."

"An' why couldn't he go himself?" Bells questioned further, wrinkling her nose in distast as they passed through the fish market. "God it smells. We shoulda taken da alleys."

"We'se have tah 'blend', memba?" Twirls reminded, still pulling Bells along behind her. Once they were out of the crowds, Bells promptly pulled away from her sister's tight restraint.

"A'right, ova da bridge we go then," Twirls said. She started walked, heading for the waterline, but Bells stayed rooted to her place.

"C'mon!"

"Hold on," Bells interjected, holding up a finger. She reached up and yanked hard at her cap, causing the pins holding it in place to come loose. Her blond hair fell down around her shoulders, which she finger-combed through, fluffing her bangs once before beginning to walk.

"Now we can go," she said, passing her sister and shoving the cap deep into her pocket. Twirls ran to catch up.

"Wha' happened tah blendin' in?" she questioned.

"We'se goin' tah see Kelley and da boys, right?" Bells said.

Twirls nodded.

"An' I'm no' goin' tah see all den fine newsboys lookin' like a laundry goil," Bells explained.

"Dat was kinda da point," Twirls stated flatly. She just shook her head at her sister. It was clear Bells had a little to much fondness for the male gender.

The pair made their way over the bridge as the sun rose and the grew hotter. Eventually, Twirls followed her sister's lead and removed her hat as well. It always didn't hurt to look good, and Twirls had to admit the Manhattan boys were a fine looking bunch.

"So," Twirls said once they reached the Manhattan base of the bridge. "We'se gotta find Jack."

"He could beh anywheah in dis city!" Bells waved her hands over her head as if to emphasize New York's vastness. "It ain't exaclty tiny."

"I know dat," Twirls replied, agitated. "But wheah do we look? Spot mentioned some'in 'bout a statue by da distribution office dat dey meet at between shifts."

Bells shrugged.

"Shoah, whateva, I don' care," she said crankily. "We don't exactly know wheah we'se goin' and I'm tired." She was angery that her sister had dragged her over the bridge at some ungodly hour to deliver a message. It seemed trivial and really stupid to her.

"God, okay, don' get mad at me," Twirls said defensively. "It was edda dis or the laundress's, memba?"

They walked a bit more until more until they entered the craziness that was Manhattan in the morningtime. It seemed everyone had somewhere to be, or something to sell or buy. The main street was crowded with vendors, shouting out prices and bargains in loud, blaring voices.

"Fish! Fresh fish!"

"Hot bread! Fresh! Buy the best loaves in the city!"

Among all this Bells and Twirls could here the familiar cries of the newsies.

"Penny a pape!"

"Baby born wit three heads!" Twirls smirked. She knew for a fact that it was actually two.

But among the crowds and buisness, one thing was promident: the gold dome of Pulitzer's office. To that Twirls pointed.

"There!" she said, jabbing Bells in the side for her eyes had closed. "Isn't the statue close by?"

Bells shrugged.

"Don' know, don' really care," she responded.

"Jus' try tah help me," Twirls said. "Da sooner we get dis done da sooner we go home."

Bells rolled her eyes, but said, "Fine. I guess da foist thing tah do would be tah find how tah get dere, since we don' know."

The girls had been in Manhattan before, but for fleeting instances and only with Spot, who knew his way around Manhattan almost as well as he did Brooklyn.

"Yeah, dat would be smart, huh," Twirls agreed. "Um..."

Bells sighed.

"Yoah makin' dis tah hard," she complained. "Dis is simple. Split up, find a newsie, meet back heah, and off we can go."

"Okay, let's go wit dat den," Twirls said, nodding. She didn't want to risk getting lost. "Meet back heah in say, ten minutes?"

Bells nodded and waved her sister off before turning to scan the street, fixing her hair while she did so. _Migh' as well make a good foist impression, _she though, continuing to look for a newsies, walking slowly down the sidewalk as she did so. She could hear them well enough; it was now simply a matter of seeing them.

But the crowds were immense! Bells began pushing her way through, shoving bodies aside and ignoring comments of "Ow! Rude girl!" and a slew of curses from a particularly fat butcher she jabbed in the back.

She made her way to the other side of the street and spotted a bench in front of a store that looked like a safe place to sit and continue her search.

Bells walked slowly down the sidewalk, careful to stay out of the street, and sank down gratefully onto the bench, fanning herself with one hand. It was hot.

"Eh! Ova heah!"

Bells' head turned at the shout and, a few yards away, she saw a boy in newsie garb motioning for a gaggle of boys in the street to come join him. Bells stood and brushed her skirt. Perfect.

She walked briskly down the sidewalk to the boy. His friends were still fighting their way through the crowd. She reached out a hand to tap him on the shoulder when WHACK! He swung his hand back and hit Bells across the face.

"Oww!" Bells put a hand to her face. It was sore to the touch.

"Oh, shit!"

The boy had turned and saw whom he had hit. "Are yah okay?"

"Skittery, man, wha' are yah doin' tah da goil?" a voice said and Bells heard the thump of boots. She had sank to her knees, eyes closed, gritting her teeth against the pain. She had always been a bit of a wimp, but the boy could hit.

"I didn' do nuttin'," the boy, Skittery, said.

"Yah bummah, yah wacked a goil!"

The voice was new.

"Are yah okay?" the voice was the same that had yelled at Skittery. Bells opened one eye and found herself face to face with a tan, Italian looking boy. His coal black eyes were filled with concern.

"Are yah okay?" he repeated, holding out a hand to help her up. She took it and the boy pulled her off her knees.

"T-Thanks," Bells stammered.

"Heah, take yoah hand away," the boy said, reaching up and gently pulling her hand down from her face. When he touched her cheek, Bells felt her stomach flip.

_Calm down! _she ordered herself, but her heart beat picked up.

"Ow, dat hoits," Bells said, wincing. The boy immedietly took his hand away.

"Nuttin' a lil' ice won' fix," he assured her. "No permadent damage heah."

"Ah, Docta Race tah da rescue!" one of his comrads, a boy with shaggy blond hiar and an eyepatch, taunted.

"Shuddup!" the boy ordered. Turning to Bells, he added, "I'm Racetrack Higgins, by da way."

Racetrack. Bells liked it. She liked him. Except for the whole Italian thing. But still, she would learn to live with that...

"I'm B-Madison." Bells caught herself right before she blew cover.

_Oh, I'm blendin', Twirls,_ she thought. _I'm blendin'._

Racetrack held out his hand. Bells took it and felt the same warmth spread through her again.

"Nice tah meet yah," he said, giving her hand a shake. Bells noted that he was not much taller than she was. Her eyes came up to his nose.

"An' these bummahs-" he pointed over his shoulder to the three boys-"are Skittery, Kid Blink an' Boots."

She looked them over and couldn't help but smirk when she noticed the flash of pink of Skittery.

"W'choo lookin' at?" Skittery asked angerly, noticing her face.

"Oh, nuttin'," she said. "I jus' nevah seen a newsie who wore pink."

Racetrack, Kid Blink, and Boots laughed.

Skittery went red and retorted, "Takes a true man tah wheah pink."

"You must be gena confused, den," Racetrack jabbed. That caused the boys and Bells to laugh harder.

"Oh, ow!"

Bells realized that the laughing made her face hurt more. Not a good idea.

"Hey, we'se jus got done sellin' da mornin' pape, and were goin' foah some breakfast. Wanna come an' we'll get yah some ice foah yoah face?" Race offered. Bells looked up at him and nodded, a smile spreading on her face.

"Shoah, dat sounds great," she said. Racetrack, always the gentleman, held out his arm. Bells linked hers through.

"Thanks ahgan," she added as they began walking. The trio ran off ahead while the two took a slower pace.

"Eh, shoah. It's no problem," Race replied. "Skittery was just bein' a bum. Yah jus' can' hoit a nice goil like yoahself."

Bells blushed and returned with, "Yah ain't tah bad yoahself."

Race smiled sheepishly.

"Eh, I try," he said with a grin.

Bells laughed. She was really liking Race. Everything about him just seemed so real and sweet. His personality, his charm, his wit...everything. And she had known him for what, five minutes?

Her eyes widened at the thought. Minutes. Ten. Twirls.

_But then ahgan, _part of her reasoned, _she was the one who had tah tell Cowboy some'in, no' me._

And with that she smiled even wider and walked away with Race.

**xXxXxXxXxXxX**

**Okay, slightly cheesy, but these chapters are nesessary. You will all see where it's going soon. Soon, soon. **

**And for all those Twirls fans, she's got a nice little bit in the next chap.**

**Write and review!**

**-iheartron547**


	5. Chapter 5

**I was so excited to see all the reviews that came in! Sure, the numbers are low, but a handful of you are reading it, so thank you so so so much for that! Spread the word on this fic if you can. I'm so grateful to you all.**

**So let's read!**

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Mush made his way down the main street, done selling the morning edition and eager to get to Tibby's for some breakfast. The papes had been selling like hotcakes and Mush had run all around town, quite pleased that his hands were empty as he walked in the general direction of Tibby's. All that selling made him hungry.

As he entered the square, his eyes fell on a girl sitting somewhat forlornly on a bench, her eyes scanning the crowded street before her. For some odd reason, Mush felt like he had seen her before.

_Don' be stupid, _he scolded himself as his heartbeat picked up. _It ain't her. She's in Queens._

But, against his conscience's reprimands, he walked quickly down the sidewalk and closer toward the girl, feeling slightly like a stalker.

She was looking away when Mush drew nearer, craning her neck to try to see into the crowd. When she turned, Mush's heart thumped. It _was _her.

"Emma?"

Twirls looked up at the sound of her name, wondering who on earth would possibly know her in Manhattan.

Her gaze met that of a newsboy's.

"Do yah remembah me? It's-"

"Mush," Twirls finished, a smile spreading across her face. No only was she happy that she would know find Kelley, her heart had started to flutter when she spoke his name

"Long way from Queens," Mush commented, leaning against the bench. Twirls remember the concocted lie from the previous evening.

"Yeah, it is," Twirls agreed. On a different note, she added, "I'm suprised yah remembahed me."

"Can' forget yah," Mush said. "It's been wha', fifteen hours?"

Twirls laughed.

"Yeah, good point," she said.

"But yoah eyes," Mush added, his voice suddenly taking on a serious tone. "Can' forget those. Neva."

Twirls blushed and looked down.

"But don' worry," he went on, a grin spreading back across his face. "The rest o' yah is pretty memorable to."

Twirls bit her lip as she realized he was subtley flirting with her.

"So," she said quickly, changing the topic. "Yah want tah help me?"

Mush shrugged.

"Yah, shoah, wha' do yah need?"

"It's moah _who _I need," Twirls said.

"Who?" Mush's brow knitted together in puzzlement.

"Jack Kelley," Twirls replied. "I'se got a message foah him."

She didn't specify from whom, so she hoped Mush would assume she meant Gambler. She hated lying to him, but the truth would have more severe consequences.

"Yah need Cowboy?"

"Yah. Can yah take me tah him? I really don' know my way 'round these parts," Twirls said sheepishly. "But only take me if yoah done sellin' an' all!"

Mush held out his empty hands.

"Yeah, no problem," he said, holding out a hand. Twirls took it, somewhat tentative, and he helped her stand. They began tah walk and Mush kept hold of her hand.

At first, Twirls found the clasp extremely uncomfortable, but it seemed only she felt that way since Mush was quite at ease. After a while, she relaxed and was able to focus more on the conversation.

"So, wha' do yah think 'bout Manhattan?" Mush asked, waving the hand that wasn't holding Twirls' to motion to the passing buildings.

"It's...bright," Twirls answered honestly.

And it was. To Twirls' eyes, Manhattan seemed lighter and happier, not so cynical and dark as Brooklyn. Maybe it was because Brooklyn was notoriously tough and Manhattan generally a nicer environment to be in. Twirls thought, as they passed by the waterline, that Brooklyn almost seemed to have a dark gloom hanging over it.

"That's some'in I've neva hoid dis place called befoah," Mush said. "Us'lly I heah big an' doity or-"

"Nah, nah," Twirls defered. "I like it."

Mush looked over at her and smiled.

"Yoah different, Emma," he said slowly. "Yah would act'lly give me da time o' day."

"Who wouldn't?" she flirted back slyly. "Yoah one o' da mos' respectful boys I'se eva met. An' trust me, I know a lot."

Mush looked at her but shrugged it off.

"Well, mos' o' da goils in dis town are so full of it," Mush said, sound frustrated. "They think they're so much betta den us. We'se as good as da sewer rats da dem."

Twirls knew how he felt.

"It's cause on one-"

"-gives yah a chance," Mush finished, giving her hand a squeeze. "I know how yah feel."

_Yah don', though, _Twirls thought. _Yah don' know wha' it's like tah lie to a boy yah really are liking, tah lie to da whole city o' New York about who yah really are._

They were silent after that, wrapped in their own thoughts, oblivious to the noises around them. Twirls was shocked when she heard bells overhead as Mush led her into a restaurant.

The room was crowded and Twirls could hear the clanking of cups and the cling of plates at the staff of what appeared to be three waiters bustled around the tables spread throughout the room. Most of the noise, though, seemed to be coming from the center of the room where three tables had been pushed together and chairs crammed around all sides, most seats taken by newsies.

"Welcome tah Tibby's," Mush said, letting go of Twirls' hand. In a lounder voice, he called, "Hey, fellas!"

The newsboys seated around the tables turned their heads in his directions and called out "Hellos" and "Heys" of their own.

" 'Eh Mush, yah picked up a goil too!" one newsie called. "Is she blind or does she honestly no' mind 'ow stupid yah look?"

Mush raised a fist in his direction and led Twirls to the end of the table, pulling out a chair for her.

"Jus' ignoah it," he said, sitting down next to her and stealing a piece of toast off a plate.

"Don' worry," Twirls said. "Yah'd be suprised how used tah it I am."

Mush nodded, his mouth full.

Suddenly, a boy took a seat on Twirls' other side and turned to her. He had a Mexican look about him.

"Sorry," he apologized, holding out a hand. Twirls guessed this to be the newsie who made the nice remark about Mush. "I"m Bumlets, by da way. Din' mean tah be rude."

Twirls cautiously took his hand and shook it slowly.

"Emma."

"Nice tah meet yah," Bumlets said, pulling his hand away. "So wheah yah from?"

"Uh, Queens," Twirls lied quickly. "Yeah, Queens."

"Nice," Bumlets said. He directed his next comment at Mush.

"Yah got one from Queens and Race picked up one from Brooklyn. We'se doin' good tahday!"

Twirls looked at Bumlets sharply when he mentioned Brooklyn.

"So wheah is da goil?" Mush asked, looking up and down the table.

Twirls tuned out as he went on to relay the whole story to Mush, thinking and wishing, even though it was a hopeless thought that the girl might not be Bells.

Her prayers weren't answered when the door swung open and Bells came out, holding a cloth-wrapped bundle to her face, followed by a boy.

Oh god, Twirls thought. _This outta be good._

" 'Eh, Race!" Bumlets yelled across the room, his shout turned both Bells' head nd her companion's in their direction. They walked toward the tables.

"Calm down," the boy said, pulling out two chairs across the table from Mush and Twirls. He helped Bells onto one of them.

"Wha' is it?" he asked, sitting next to Bells and across from Mush.

Bumlets pointed to Twirls.

"Mushy-boy go' a goil too," he said.

"Bumlets, grow up," Mush and Bells' boy said in unison. Bumlets rolled his eyes and stood up to move to the other end of the table.

"So Emma, dis is Racetrack an-"

"Madison. Dis is Mush an-"

"Emma."

Twirls waved hello.

"So, yoah from Brooklyn," Twirls said, playing dumb. This was such a perfect time to annoy Bells.

"Yah," Bells nodded.

"So yah must know Spot Conlon," Twirls guessed. Bells' eyes widened when she realized where Twirls was going with this.

"Yah know Spot?" Race asked, suprised.

"Don' most o' da goils know 'em _real well?_" Twirls teased.

Bells kicked her under the table.

"Wait a minute." Race was dumbfounded. "Yoah a pr-"

"Nah, nah!" Bells said quickly. "Who doesn't know who Spot is, right? My brudda's a newsie, anyways."

Race nodded and sighed in relief.

"Oh. Okay."

"But..." Bells continued, smiling devilishly at Twirls. "Those Queens goils..."

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**I'm so sorry this took so long to get up and I know not a lot happens, but the next chapter should be pretty interesting, so hand in there! Thanks to everyone for reading this!**

**-iheartron547**


	6. Chapter 6

**I have some great ideas for where I am taking this story, thanks in part to my muses, the other half of iheartron547 and candyk8. Heart you both.**

**I also heart my readers. Getting the reviews really makes my day. So keep reading and promote the story a bit if you can. Thanks for everything.**

**Now let's read!**

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Not much surprised Jack Kelley. He always could guess, it seemed, what someone else's motive was and was quick to respond. If something did- rarely- catch him slightly off guard, it didn't show in his demeanor. He took things in stride and acted as if nothing phased him.

Or so he thought. When Jack Kelley walked into Tibby's and found two of New York's biggest secrets sitting there with his boys, he could honestly say the only emotion he felt _was _surprise. And then confusion. And then anger. And then the thought of '_What the hell?_'

But in a typical Cowboy manner, he hid his feelings and approached the table, calmly commenting, "So, wha' have we heah?"

The quartet looked up from their coversation, Bells and Twirls showing no signs of recognition as Mush said, "Jack, yah remembah Emma from las' night?"

Jack nodded and Mush went on.

"Well, I ran inta her eoiler an' she was looking foah yah."

Jack turned to Twirls.

"Yah were lookin' foah me?" he questioned. Twirls nodded.

"Don' let Sarah find out," Race muttered under his breath. Mush snorted. Who actually cared if Sarah found out? No one liked her anyway.

"Nah, it's no' like dat," Twirls said hastily, glaring at Race. "I'se got a message foah yah."

"Well, come inta my office den," Jack said, motioning for Twirls to join him in a booth away from the table.

"So who are yah?" he asked as they sat down. Twirls knew he was referring to the lie about her identity.

"Same as las' night," Twirls replied. "Emma, from Queens."

"An' yoah sista?"

Twirls bit her lip.

"She's Madison," she said slowly, hoping Jack wasn't going to prod further.

"From wheah?"

And apparently he was. This was what Twirls didn't want to answer.

"From...Brooklyn."

Jack put a hand to his forehead and leaned against the table, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to control his frustration.

"She really neva thinks things through, does she?" Jack asked.

"Nope," Twirls answered. "Neva."

Jack opened his eyes and picked up the glass of water the waiter had just poured and took a long sip.

"We'll deal wit dat lata," he decided. "Now wha' did yoah brudda want?"

"I'm from Queens, remembah?" Twirls reminded with a sly smile. Jack didn't return it. He meant buisness.

"Quit foolin' around," he said seriously.

"Spot already does enough of that," Twirls mumbled.

"What did Conlon want?"

"He wanted me tah tell yah dat he wants tah meet tahmorrah 'cause two moah centers were shut down," Twirls said. "An' I'm guessin' Daggas ain't happy."

At her last comment, Jack's brow raised as he took out a cigar and lit it.

"Did he tell yah?" Jack guessed, blowing out a mouthful of smoke.

Twirls nodded.

"Bells don' know though," she added.

Jack snorted as he watched Bells chatter with Race, never seeming to stop.

"Let's keep it dat way," Jack said. "She can' keep 'er mouth shut. Now who took the news tah Queens?"

"Pockets or Bat Ears, I think," Twirls said, biting her lip to try to remember exactly who.

"Bat Ears? Da little one?"

"He knows wha's goin' on," Twirls defended. "Plus, he's our best spy."

Jack shrugged and put his cigar out in his water glass.

"I won' question Conlon," he said. "Ain' crazy enough."

"Good idea," Twirls agreed. "But really. Bat Ears is trus' worthy."

"No one's trus'worthy," Jack said, staring at her intently. "I woulda thought Spot told yah dat."

"He did," Twirls said, a little hurt to think he hadn't told her that. "But as much as he says it, _he _trusts people."

"Name one."

Twirls thought for a moment and smirked when she thought of an answer.

"How about all o' Brooklyn?" she offered, folding her arms across her chest. "An' yoahself an' Gambla? He trusts yah'se tah keep the secret 'bout me an' my clueless twin."

Jack shook his head, somewhat sadly.

"He threatens," Jack corrected. "He threatens us tah keep our mouths shut."

Twirls sat back stunned. Maybe Jack was right and all of New York was functioning on threats and false trust. She looked over at Mush- some stranger whom she had almost blown her secret to- and grew even more confused. There had to be _some _trust in this god forsaken city, right?

**xXxXxXxXxXxX**

While Brooklynites had their meeting spot be the docks and the Manhattan boys spent mounds of time by the Horace Greeley statue, the Queens girls spent time in a park not to far from the lodging house. To Spot it seemed like a ridiculous place for swarms of girls to gather, but say did he have on the matter?

He appeared oblivious to the many pairs of eyes that followed his form as he walked through the crowd toward Gambler. Whispering spread from girl to girl; Spot Conlon was a tasty bit of gossip for the Queens natives.

"Conlon."

Gambler stood up from the fountain edge she was sitting on and held out a hand to spit shake with Spot.

"Marquez," he said in reply, grasping her hand. "I've got news."

Gambler wiped her hand on her skirt, retorting, "News that' yah couldn't send Pockets wit?"

"I could, but I don' waant all o' New York knowin'," Spot said icily. "Pockets can' always keep his mouth shut."

"Nah, but yah can leave 'em in charge o' Brooklyn," Gambler replied. "Smart. Wha' are yah on dat possessed yah tah do dat?"

Spot ignored her last remark.

"This is serious," he said gruffly, his hand going to the head of his cane.

Gambler rolled her eyes.

"Ease up," she said soothingly.

Spot tensed up even more and said through gritted teeth, "Dis is a serious-"

"Yeah, I know," Gambler said. "Now let's go somewheah a bi' moah private. As you said, not all o' New York needs tah know what's goin' on."

She stood up and the pair began to walk down the path towards the exit of the park when two frazzled looking and dishevled newsgirls stopped them in their path.

"Matches, Tarheels," Gambler greeted. "Wha' is it?"

The first girl, a petite redhead, was doubled over on her knes, out of breath from running so far to report the news to Gambler.

"Trouble...three blocks over from da distrabution centa...boys...Bronx," she wheezed out.

Spot felt Gambler instantly go rigid.

"Find any other goils on the street an' send dem back," she ordered. "I'll take a few oddas and sort dis out."

"I'm comin'," Spot said, but Gambler shook her head.

"I don' need yah in da mix," she said. "That'll jus' make things worse."

She was of course referring to the fact that Spot was any Bronx boy's mortal enemy. If they saw him, whatever was going on would never be resolved. Well, resolved meaning the fight won.

"Fine." Spot balled his hands into fists to keep his anger under control. "I'll wait heah."

He walked towards the fountain, wondering if this was how Twirls and bells felt every time he wouldn't let them go places. He made a mental note to apologize.

As Spot took a seat on the fountain's edge, a voice behind him said, "Sucks, don't it?"

Spot turned to find a fair, curled haired newsie staring at him intently.

"Wha' sucks?"

"Bein' stuck heah while the fight's goin' on," she said.

Spot nodded.

"Yeah, it does," he agreed. "Who are yah?"

"One o' da few goils yah haven't slept wit in dis city," she snapped. Spot was taken aback. No one, besides his smart-mouthing sisters, was ever that blunt or foreward with him.

"I'm Notes," she added.

"Why aren' yah wit Gambla?" he questioned.

"Cause when she's no' heah, I'm in charge," she said. "Kinda like Pockets."

"Yah know who he is?" Spot asked, suprised.

Notes shrugged.

"I know moah den yah would think," she said with a sly smile and a gleam in her eye. Something about her made Spot drawn to her, not matter how rude she was.

"Well, looks like things are pretty calm despite the fightin'," Spot remarked, determined to change the topic. Things in the park _did _seem calm, with various groups of girl going about their buisness.

"Yah want tah go swimmin'?" Notes asked suddenly.

"_What?_"

"Swimmin'," Notes repeated. "Yah know how yoah boy."s use da riva? Well, we use da fountain." She motioned behind him. The fountain was quite big and several girls were wading in. He could see why. The summer sun beat heavily overhead.

"I'll pass," he said, averting his gaze away from her. From the corner of his eye he could see Notes pulling off her skirt and top. His mouth fell open slightly as she swung her legs over the edge and entered the cool water in only her chemise.

"Come on!" she begged. Spot didn't turn around. He instead focused his gaze on a group of younger girls who were playing a hand game of sorts.

"Don' make me!" she teased. Spot had no idea what she was talking about.

"Don' make yah wha-" he turned and was met with a splash of cold water to his face, soaking his front.

"Wha' da hell!" he cried.

"Gotcha," Notes said. Spot smirked and shook his head.

"Yah should have not done that," he said and drenched her in return.

"Oh no yah don'!" she cried and, grabbing his suspenders, pulled him in. They continued their water war until a soft cough came from behind them.

"Having fun?" Gambler stood, her arms crossed and lip bleeding, glaring at the pair.

"Yeah, thanks, we were," Spot said, getting out. "If yoah fightin's done, can we talk now?"

Gambler shook her head.

"I'll jus' see yah lata tahnight," she said, waving her arm in dismissal, turning to Notes.

Spot picked up his cane, giving on last look back at Notes. She gave him a small smile and mouthed, '_I'll see yah soon.'_

**xXxXxXxXxXxX**

**I'm so so sorry this took so long to get up! But, if I'm allowed to gloat, I thought it was a pretty good chapter!**

**But who am I to say so? Review and let me know!**

**-iheartron547**


	7. Chapter 7

**I am so sorry this took so long to get up! I just hit this wall where I like, couldn't write, but now I'm back, partially thanks to candyk8. She seems to be my muse.**

**The story is going to get a little darker now, and not so lovey dovey even though that is sometimes the best part, right?**

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

All three Conlons came home in relatively good moods. No newsie knew exactly why each Conlon was on cloud nine, although there were many speculations, none of which actually matched the actual occurence.

As Bells slept later that evening, exhausted from her long day, Spot came over to Twirls, who was daydreaming on her bunk, and pulled her from her mind wanderings.

"So did yah find Kelley?" he asked, leaning against the bedpost.

"Wha'? Oh, yeah," Twirls said. "Found 'em, told 'em, left 'em."

Spot looked skeptical.

"Tha' was all?"

Twirls nodded, looking at her hands. If Spot got a look at her eyes, he would know she was hiding something.

"Yeah, tha' was all," she said, picking at her nail. _Oh no, that was not all, _she thought. _No, I ran into Mush and got separated from my sista but I really didn' care 'cause Mush is so amazing and oh so hot, but I can' tell yah that 'cause I would get pounded. And yah wouldn' want tah heah tha' some guy was hot anyway._

Spot raised an eyebrow, but didn't question her any further. Twirls let out a silent breath of relief. She hated his interrogations.

"A'right," he said finally, uncrossing his arms and moving his hand to his canehead. "Kelley and Gambla are comin' ova heah, so Pockets is keepin' an eye on things."

Spot motioned past the curtain, where a wall of noise rose and fell with the turns of the poker game Twirls assumed was going on.

"Why aren' they all at da docks?" Twirls asked. Spot's face was stone cold.

"Because," he sais shortly, closing the topic. "Now jus' stay heah tahnight, okay?"

Bells snored loudly and both siblings looked up at her.

"Well, sheah's not goin' anywheah," Twirls said. "An' I'll stay put. Don' worry."

Spot gave one last look at his sisters before pulling aside the curtain and leaving.

"So, who was da guy?"

Twirls crained her head to see her sister sit up and jump down from the top bunk to sit next to her.

"So, who was it?" she pestered again.

Twirls just looked at her incrediously.

"How do yah do dat?"

"Do what?" Bells asked innocently.

"Dat." Twirls waved her hand toward her sister's bed. "Da fake sleeping thing."

Bells shrugged.

"I dunno," she said. "Actin's some'in I'm jus' good at. An' it's no' da hard tah fake a snore. 'Specially when yah live wit a bunch o' guys."

She sighed and took her cap off, adding slyly, "Speakin' 'o guys, who was da one you'se were droolin' ova?"

Twirls looked indignant. She apparently wasn't getting out of answering this question.

"I wasn't _droolin' _ova anybody," she said sternly. "He's a friend."

Bells raised an eyebrow.

"Yah, an' Spot ain't a playa," Bells said sarcastically. "Now really, who was 'e?"

Twirls looked down at her hands, weighing her options. If she told Bells, at least she would have someone to confide in over the whole matter. But then again, keeping her mouth shut would allow her to avoid any chance of news reaching Spot. _But Bells would neva do that! _she reasoned with herself.

"His name is Mush," she said finally, in a small voice.

"He's a cute catch," Bells teased, elbowing her sister in the side. "Yah like 'em?"

Twirls blushed and nodded.

"Yeah," she said, nodding, still looking down at her hands. "I do."

"Yah gonna see 'em again?"

Now Twirls looked up. Her sister wasn't smirking, just looking at her expectantly, waiting for a answer.

"I-I don' know," Twirls stutterd, not sure how to answer. She hadn't given any thought to that question. It hadn't entered her mind at all, even.

"Do yah want tah?"

Twirls bit her lip, pondering. A picture of Mush's face entered her mind's eye and she smiled to herself. To see Mush again...to talk with him, laugh with him, just as a normal girl, not as Spot's secret sister.

"Yes," she said confidently. "I do."

**xXxXxXxXxXxXx**

Bat Ears walked quickly down the street, rushing to get back to the lodging house. It was dark and he wasn't in the safest area of the city. The houses were crumbling and in states of disrepair, the homes of the poorest and shadiest members of Brooklyn's society. The street Bat Ears was on was filled with litter and other things that he didn't want to know about.

"Jus' get home and it'll be okay," Bat Ears said to himself, not really believing in the manta, but he kept saying it. "Jus' get home and everything will be a'right."

A dog barked off in the distance and Bat Ears quicked his pace, looking behind him and down any side alleys he past for shadows or movement. He gulped as the wind pushed around the garbage and sped up again, this time to a near run.

"Almos' theah," he told himself, turning the corner onto a similiar dingy street, this time iluminated somewhat by lampposts. "Almos' theah. Keep yoah hat on."

He continued walking through the erie, silent night for a few more minutes, his heart rate slowly climbing back down to a resonable pace. Things were looking less grim, less frightful now. Bat Ears began to match his footsteps to his slowing heartrate, breathing deeply as he turned onto a main street that would eventually take him to another crossroad and then straight to the lodging house.

The silence was broken, though, by a faint wispering.

"We can' do anything till he's heah-"

"I know dat! Don' be so dense!"

Bat Ears stopped and, true to his name, listened intently and followed the source of the noise. It led him into an alley, coming to a dead end at a stone wall. The noise of voices was coming from the other side.

"Didn' Dagga say 10-"

"Shuddit! He'll beh heah!"

Daggers. Bat Ears' eyes widened at the sound of the name. He needed to get a closer view on what was going on. This could be valuable information for Spot. Looking around, he spotted crates stacked alongside a closed door, probably a shop or store. Bat Ears crept up on top of the stack, thankful he was so light for a ten year old, and pulled himself onto the wall, careful to stay out of the pool of the light that was being offered by a fire. Standing around it were two large, muscular boys Bat Ears assumed to be Bronx cronies.

"So why did he wan' us tah come again?" one boy asked, earning him a slap upside the head from his counterpark.

"Don' be stupid," the other boy said in a slight Southern draw. "It's about the Brooklyn/Hattan thing."

The boy nodded. "Oh. Okay. But wasn' Dash suppose tah beh heah?"

"He's comin'."

The voice came from the shadows, menacing and dark. It was slick, like oil, and sent chills down Bat Ears' spin. Stepping into the light, the speaker had an equally formidable appearence. Tall and lanky, though muscular as any boy, from years in the blacksmith shop, Daggers Smith was many people's visual of a dark angel. With his long, stringy black hair and cold, coal black eyes, he didn't need any weapons to inflick fear upon his victim.

"We've been waiting," the smaller, blond one of the two boys said.

"And heah I am, Claw, so stop the whining," Dagger said cooly, leaning against the brink wall of the building behind him. "Rodeo, have yah hoid anything?"

The boy with the accent shook his head.

"The meetin' definetely happened," he said. "Dat's all I got."

Daggers nodded slowly, the wind catching his long hair and making it blow around his pale skin, his eye blazing in the diming light of the fire.

"We'll wait foah Dash befoah I tell yah the next part of our plan."

"No need."

A small by stepped into the light. Bat Ears sucked in a breath. He knew him! It was the little Irish boy called Shamrock that had turned up at the house not two weeks previous. With a silent snarl Bat Ears realized the little two faced weasel was a spy.

"Dash," Daggers greeted, giving the lad a thump on the back. "Good of yah tah join us."

"Sorry it took so long," Dash said, warming his hands over the fire. "Dat Pockets had every olda kid watchin' da doors. Spot's pretty tight 'bout security tahnight."

"So it took da itty bitty baby a long time tah get out?" Claw mocked, earning him another slap on the had from Rodeo.

"Shuddit," he hissed.

Daggers eyed the two evenly before turning to the younger boy.

"Any news foah me?"

Dash smirked evilly and Bat Ears' heart stopped. Oh no. What did he know?

"Yah know how Spot had fooled with one a many goil?" Dash said. The three he was preaching to nodded. "Well, there's two he didn't screw. An' they're livin' at da house."

Bat Ears wasn't breathing. He didn't like where this was going. He had to get home before Shamrock-Dash- did, to warn Spot. He slowly inched back to the crates.

"Go on," Daggers said.

"Spot Conlon has _sisters._"

The word hung in the air over the fire. Bat Ears saw Daggers' face turn into a small smile.

"Oh, this is good," he said slowly. "Secret goilies hidden out, eh? This is good."

"I'll say," Rodeo remarked under his breath. Daggers turned his gaze on him.

"No touchin'," he snarled. "If anyone does, it'll beh meh. But we can use dese goils tah our advantage."

Bat Ears put on foot over the edge of the wall and tried to find the crate, but his food met with air. He stretched a little further...

SMACK!

Bat Ears landed hard on the cobblestone ground. Whincing slightly, he turned to find four pairs of Bronx eyes staring down at him. He watched as Daggers swaggered over and pulled him up by one thin arm.

"And this is better."

**xXxXxXxXxXxX**

**Oh no! Poor little Bat Ears! Don't worry, you'll find out what happens to him. Just read and review! I'm so sorry this took so long! I promise the gap won't be this great again between posts! I really do appreciate all you're doing for this story!**


	8. Chapter 8

**AHHHH!! Thank you so so much to the few reviews I got!! You all seem to love Bells and Twirls, and some of you- coughcandyk8cough- want to see Notes, so I will oblige. Just read on.**

**And to all you Bat Ears lovers, don't worry. Read on and you will see what will come of the little guy.**

**Thank you again!!**

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

Bat Ears began to shake as he stared up into the cold black eyes of Dagger Smith, who gripped his skinny arm and pulled him rather forcefully to his feet.

"It's Conlon's spy," Dash said smugly, glad that he could provide another tidbit of information.

"Bat Ears, am I correct?" Daggers said almost softly, making his persona all the more creepy. "Well, some spy. But one we could use to our advantage."

Bat Ears was shaking horribly now and stuttered, "I-I'll t-tell! I'll t-tell S-Spot everything yoah up tah! I will! An' Pockets! I'll tell 'em Dash sneaked out! An' dat he's a spy too!"

Rodeo and Claw let out a raucus rough of laughter at this proclemation and Daggers chuckled softly, shaking his head back in forth in amusement.

"Yoah a funny little one, I'll give yah dat," he mused. "But do yah honestly think weah just gonna let yah walk away from dis? I think not."

He put Bat Ears down on a crate and knelt to his level.

"Yoah brudda..." he began. "Pockets. Nice boy, is he not?"

Bat Ears nodded fearfully and the knot in his stomach grew tighter as the possibilities of where this could lead ran through his head. The trio of Bronx boys now gathered around him also, looking menacing in the dying firelight.

"A nice boy," Daggers continued, "that could easily be ah, taken care of." As he spoke those three words, Daggers drew forth his namesake, a small, maybe 6 inches in length, dagger, tracing the edges against Bat Ear's cheek. "Now we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Bat Ears nodded, stunned. If he told, Pockets could be killed. Was reportubg a puny little spy that he could easily get one of the older boys to beat up really worth the death of only caretaker, his only family? Bat Ears was sure that Brooklyn could provail in a war. But what about the twins? Knowing Daggers and his reputation...maybe he could subtly tell Spot to keep a closer eye on the pair...

"So, do we have a deal?" Daggers asked, putting away his blade. He stood up. "Yah keep yoah mouth shut and report any news yah heah about Brookyn's battle plans tah Dah. Oddawise yoah bro is history."

Bat Ears nodded, holding out his hand. Daggers spit in his own and returned the grip. Even though Daggers was grasping his hand, Bat Ears felt like it was a lease around his neck.

**xXxXxXxXxX**

Twirls looked over her shoulder and lifted up her skirt as she stepped onto the Brooklyn Bridge, taking a deep breath. So far, so good. She smiled wryly, thinking of the last night.

* * *

_She had Bells lay on Bells' bunk, hudled under the covers as the summer night turned chilly._

_"Now," Bells said. "Repeat it back to me."_

_Twirls rolled her eyes, although Bells could not see the action so it was completely inaffective._

_"I get up before you ring da bell," Twirls reiterated boredly. "An' go an' hide my skoit by da docks. I get my papes from Pockets like usual, but leave 'em on da crate my skoit's under when I change for yah tah pick up. Den I got tah 'Hattan."_

_"Exactly." Twirls felt the covers move as her sister nodded. "An' yah have tah be back by da time market's done. I can' cover for yah foreva."_

_"I will beh, calm down," Twirls said. She yawned and added, "Can I go tah sleep now?"_

_"One more thing." Twirls let out a soft groan. _

_"Sleep, Bells," she snapped. "It's impoitant, 'specially when yah get up at an ungodly hour like yah do. An' I have tah now, thanks tah this brilliant plan."_

_"Well yah figure out a different way tah get saftely tah 'Hattan, den, witout getting caught," Bells said, in a hushed tone of hurt. Here she was trying to be a good sister and Twirls wanted nothing to do with it._

_Twirls felt her sister roll over and reached out to touch her back._

_"Bells, I'm sorry," she said, meaning it. "I'm just tired and...noivous I guess."_

_Bells rolled back over, her eyebrow raised even though it went unseen by her sister._

_"Scared? Why?"_

_"Well, I'm sneakin' ova tah see a _boy_," Twirls whispered. "I dunno, it just feels weird. An' then I get all jittery wonderin' if he would like me, an' then I get all these scenes runnin' through my head wheah he spends time wit me and finds that he doesn't like me and I just make a fool o' myself and then Spot finds out wha' we did, an' yah get in trouble and can' go see yah boy an-"_

_"Twirls. Breath," Bells ordered. "Foist things foist, as I mighta mentioned, Spot's goin' tah Queens again, and I doubt it's tah see Gambla, even though dat's wha' he is tellin' everybody. Second, Mush would be an idiot no' tah like yah. Yoah smart, cute, funny, wise-mouthish-"_

_"Bells, dat's no' a good thing."_

_"Hey, I'm tryin' tah make yah feel betta heah. Let me talk. An' I'll see Race. Have yah eva known me tah let Spot stop me when it comes tah boys?"_

_Twirls thought back to when Spot threatened to throw Pockets out if he didn't stop hooking up with Bells. She vividly remembered the night that Spot stood on the steps of the house, Pockets in front of him, nose bleeding from the fight that ensued. And then later that week, at the New Year's Party, she remembered drunkenly walking in on Pockets and Bells in a passionate liplock. _

_Twirls sighed. That was her sister for you._

_"Okay, yah make yoah point," Twirls said. "I just-it's gonna be hard tah get close tah him when I can' tell 'em who I really even am."_

_This stunned Bells to silence, for it was a problem for her as well. At least Pockets had known who she was._

_"Wow," Bells finally murmured. "I neva thought of it dat way. I guess yah..."_

_But even the ever wise Bells didn't have any advice to give._

* * *

Twirls walked briskly, enjoying the sun and warmth on her skin and hair, which rarely saw sunlight. It was a perfect summer day; the sky was blue, the clouds like cotton balls in the sky, the sun shining down, making the water in the river sparkle almost blindingly.

She made her way into the hustle and bustle of the morning market, crowded even though it was quite early. Twirls still didn't know her way around this part of the city, so she made her way over to the bench she had met Mush at the previous time.

Sitting down primly, Twirls smelled fresh bread and buns and turned to look behind her, where a bakery kept residence. She felt her stomach rumble; usually she went to the restaurant with the rest of the boys, but since she had taken off as soon as Pockets had handed her the papes, that had not happened.

"Emma?"

Twirls turned and smiled, seeing a puzzled but delighted Mush coming towards her.

"Suprise," she said, standing up. Mush shook his head, still smiliing.

"Yoah amazin'," he murmured, thinking Twirls couldn' hear even though she did. She prayed she did not blush.

"So, I see yah have quite a numba there," Twirls commented, motioning to the large stack of papes upon Mush's right shoulder. "Headline's good?"

Mush nodded.

"Best de've been since da strike," he replied. "Wonda how Brooklyn's are." He looked somewhat scornfully in the direction of the river. Twirls gulped.

"Yah know," she said cautiously, praying she would not regret this later, "I'm from Brooklyn."

Mush's mouth fell open slightly and he closed it quickly and said, "I didn' mean anything like yoah thinkin'! It's Conlon-I don' like him."

This Twirls smiled at and answered truthfully.

"I don' much edda."

"Oh. Whew!" Mush said with relief. He caught her glance looking at the fresh muffins and asked, "Did yah eat befoah yah hiked ova heah? Which, by da way, I thank yah foah."

"Oh, no, I didn'," Twirls responded. "An' don' worry, it was woith it."

Mush grinned goofishly and tripped over his feet on the way into the bakery, causing Twirls to smile and her feelings for him to grow even more.

Returning with two muffins, one of which he handed to Twirls, sending sparks flying between their fingertips as they touched, saying, "Heah yah go. So, do yah wanna sell wit me or..."

"Yeah, I do," Twirls said, shouldering half his papes. Mush goggled at her.

"Yah'd be suprised at how good at dat I am," she said. He nodded apprecietivly, shouldering the papes on one shoulder at taking her hand, leading her away to spend one of the best days she's had.

**xXxXxXxXxX**

Bells sat glumly in Jackie's, the restaurant of the Brooklyn boys. She was thinking of all the doings her sister could be getting up to, from G-rated scenes to some thoughts she shouldn't be having. But she knew Twirls. She wouldn't get up to much. She hoped.

But Spot was another story. Bells definetly didn't believe his hoity-toity about going to confer further with Gambler, because she had heard him say before that he spoke to Gambler as little as possible; she was strong-willed and hardheaded and most often disagreed with him.

This left only one other possible reason for her brother to travel to Queens and one reason that Bells had never known him to act upon before. If she was correct and someone had caused him to lie, she would pay the said person. For Spot Conlon had left his territory for a reason that his own sister could not believe: a girl.

**xXxXxXxXxXxX**

Spot didn't know what possessed him to return to Queens. He had been with many a girl, thinking he had seen them all. But no girl had ever drawn him to her before, at least not in a sexual way. There was something almost intoxicating about Notes.

Notes. Spot had barely thought of anything but her, except maybe the pressing problem of Daggers. But aside from that, Notes had haunted his thoughts. Her smile, smirk, laughter, that glint in her eye that almost seemed evil, in a good way if such a thing was possible.

His heart was going at an abnormally quick rate as he approached the fountain, knowing what would slow it. His eyes scanned the surrounding crowds and clumps of girls until he found the one he was looking for talking with Gambler. Thinking his heart would've slowed, it just quickened. He walked towards her.

"An' then it was-"

Notes stopped talking mid-sentence when a shadow was cast across her. She looked up, shading her eyes from the glare of the sun, and her mouth fell open but in a smile when she saw who was there.

"Conlon??"

Gambler's welcome was much less pleasent.

"Nice tah see yah too," Spot returned.

"Wha' da hell are you doin' here?" she questioned.

"Well I certainly ain't heah tah see you," he snapped back.

"An' yah came tah see Notes?"

"Yeah. Problem?"

"Yoah funeral."

She finally walked away and Spot turned to Notes and offered his hand. She took it with a small smile.

"Shall we?"

**xXxXxXxXxXxX**

**Hope you all liked it!! candyk8 bugged me to no end to post, so you can all thank her. And thank me by reviewing.**

**-iheartron547**


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm so so glad that the few reviews I received responded so well to Spot's new kindling relationship with Notes!! She's a fun character and the two of them together have such a strong personality mix that will be a joy to write about. (Notice how I'm raving about you, candyk8, and didn't receive a review. Humph)**

**So now we go further and further into the political world of the newsies, and poor little Bat Ears is sadly caught up in it all. I do pity the boy. Which is I since I created him. But hey, sometimes characters take on their own persona in your mind.**

**And so, without further ado, I give you the next chapter of Brooklyn's Secrets.**

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Bells looked impatiently up at the Brooklyn Bridge, framed by the setting sun. Her leg bounced up and down as she sat on a crate by the water's edge, with a clear view to the base of the bridge where her sister _should _have appeared a long while before now.

She sighed and directed her gaze to the noisy boys running around, jumping in and out of the river, sending cascades of water onto the dock. Spot sat on his usual perch looking of his boys, which was usual, but the unusual was that he was silent. Pockets, behind him, realized he was not going to be conversing with Spot tonight and was teaching some of the younger newsies the art of poker. Bells eyes little Bat Ears next to her brother. He looked equally quiet as well. And pale. Bells wondered if he could be getting ill.

She turned her head back to the bridge and saw her sister's form walking toward her. She stood u p and ran over to meet her.

"Hey," she greeted, coming to a stop and looking behind her to make sure they were shielded from the view of any prying Brooklynite eyes as she handed her sister her trousers. "How was it?"

Twirls didn't respond, merely took the pants and pulled them on under she skirt. Her face showed a look of uplifted emotion and if Bells hadn't known her sister would never touch them, she would have assumed Twirls was high on something. She looked so _happy._

"So, how was it?" Bells pestered again. "Worth da trip ova?"

Twirls nodded and said, "'Mazin'. Goin' back soon."

"Yah are, are yah?" Bells raised an eyebrow. "An' who's coverin' foah yah?"

Twirls' look of pure bliss fades slightly as she turned to give her sister a pleading glance.

"Kina hopin' yah would," she said sheepishly. "Please?"

Bells rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Don' have much of a choice, do I?" she remarked. "Yoah gonna guilt me inta dis."

Twirls smiled broadly and sat down on the same crate her sister had previously occupied.

"So tell me wha' went on," Bells said, taking a seat on the damp riverbank. "He's woith it?"

"Bells, he's amazin'!" Twirls gushed. "I met 'em out front o' dis bakery wheah I foist bumped inta him"-she smiled inwardly at the memory- "an' he got me some breakfast and we bumped hands an' I just felt somethin'! An' then we sold foah a while-"

"Yah _sold?_" Bells asked, shocked. "As in papes?"

"Nah, fish," Twirls said with a roll of her eyes. "Yes, papes. He jus' thought I was so good 'cause I was a goil an' all. No big deal."

"An' afta dat?" Bells prodded.

"We went tah Tibby's and had lunch wit some o' da boys- Race asked 'bout yah." Bells' heart leaped.

"He did?" she asked. "But he knows I'm from Brooklyn."

"So does Mush now," Twirls said quietly. Bells' eyes bugged at her.

"Yoah not serious." She said it more like a statement, unable to believe her sister could be so stupid. That was her job.

"I had to, Bells!" Twirls said. When her sister tried to protest, she went on. "No! Let me explain. I feel so weird 'cause a whole part o' my life I haveta keep secret and I like him to much tah not be somewhat honest. So, I told 'em. No biggie. He jus' thinks I'm anudda goil. It kinda makes more sense 'bout how we know each odda and all."

Bells took a few deep breaths and grimaced.

"It could be worse," she agreed. "It could be way worse."

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

A ways away from where his baby sisters were talking to their heart's content about boys, Spot appeared to be looking out at his boys being the hooligans they were. But in reality, his mind was occupied with other thoughts, thoughts that no one knew Spot was capable of having.

Notes' face kept swimming into his mind's eye, her laugh and smile, especially after he had shot the spit ball at the waiter in the restaurant the two had eaten lunch at. And the way she looked dripping wet, after he had pushed her into the fountain unknowingly as he dropped her off...

"Spot. _Spot. _SPOT!"

Spot jumped as little Bat Ears called his name. He turned, trying to hid his anger, but he still managed to come off frightening. Bat Ears looked at him, trembling.

"What?" he snapped.

"Um, jus' wanted tah know if you'se seen yoah sistas," Bat Ears said in a little voice. "Cause I haven't an' I jus' thought yah might want tah know dey still aren't heah."

Spot snapped his head back around to scan the crowd of kids running below him, not seeing the figures of his sisters anywhere in the mass.

"Nah, I don' know wheah dey are," he said, somewhat grateful to Bat Ears, because for a moment he had fogotten the fact that he even _knew _other girls besides Notes. Which was bad considering he did have sisters. "But dey betta show up soon or dey're in foah it."

"I think I saw dem over closer tah da bridge," Pockets put in. Spot's head instantly turned in that direction and saw two figures walking toward the crowd of boys. Although they were dressed as boys, they walked with a hint more grace than say, Pockets did.

When the girls had climbled onto the bulkhead, leaning against the rail next to Spot, he looked down at them on either side and asked, "So wha' were yah two up tah taday? Yah took off dis mornin'."

"Yeah, I sold ova on da odda side o' town," Twirls lied quickly, but not showing that this was indeed the furthest thing from the truth. Although, she was on the other side of town...

"Yah went down dere?!" Spot said, the protective brother in him coming out. "Don' do dat again. If someone down there found out who yah really were, dey might take advantage of yah."

"Someone already is," Bells mumbled. Twirls kicked her. "Ow!"

Spot gave the younger twin a look.

"Why in hell did yah do dat?"

"Nuttin'." It was just Twirls' day to tell lies, it seemed.

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

In Queens, dusk was starting to fall, along with the cool summer air. Many of the girls began to make their way back to the boarding house in clumps, but Notes stayed behind, sitting in her usual 'alone' spot- against the trunk and under the protective branches of a large, droopy willow. She gazed dreamily into the leafy umbrella above her, thinking about her day, running a finger over her swollen lips.

Spot. That was the one word that kept running through her mind. Spot, Spot, Spot, Spot. She would never get tired of him. And hopefully- she thought with worry- he wouldn't tire of her. She shuddered and put the thought from her mind, trying to instead focus on her day.

He had shown up so unexpectedly but like an answered prayer- Notes couldn't stop thinking about him ever since their first encounter. And he had said the same.

They had wandered around Queens for some time, no one really recognizing Spot, which he confided he found nice. Passerbys just thought they were another couple out for a stroll. She had shown him all of Queens' sights that were worth seeing and he in turn gave her the rundown of Brooklyn.

By mid-afternoon, the duo was starving and Notes had led them back to the restaurant that was the meeting place for the girls. Thankfully, none were there, having either been out selling the afternood editon or working the 12-8 shift at the factory. This was where Spot had tormented their waiter, causing Notes to nearly throw up from laughing so hard. And then...

That evening, they had returned to the park and Notes showed Spot her tree. This was where he had left her, after the pair had spent a considerable amount of time in high nonverbal activity unitl Gambler gave a loud cough from outside the curtain of leaves and told Spot it was time to leave.

"What are you, me mudda?" Notes had asked darkly, causing Gambler to roll her eyes and take the youngest girls home. That was why Notes now found herself under the tree, wondering when she would see Spot again. She knew it was to risky for her to venture to Brooklyn and she knew Spot had a territory to run, so him coming every day was simply out of question. But Notes could hope.

"Notes?"

It was Gambler. "Can I come, um, in?"

Notes rolled her eyes at Gambler's choice of wording and called, "Yeah, why not?"

The Queen entered and sat down beside Notes, leaning her back up against the trunk.

After a few moments of silence came, "Yah like him," spoken softly from Gambler. "I can tell. A lot. Yah've been with odda boys, but I can see yah feel different 'bout him."

"I've been wit him _twice," _Notes reminded.

"Still," Gambler said with a shrug. "Sometimes that's enough."

As an afterthought, she added, "I jus' find it funny his names not David."

Notes looked at her.

"Why's dat?"

"I dunno, yah jus' dated two Davids. Da scrawny one and who was da odda? Oh yeah. Da one who liked tah cook."

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

**Corny jab at the end to candyk8, but if any of you know who I meant, review and tell me. I'll give you a comeo in the next chapter, which you should expect by next week. I've decided to post weekly. It makes it so much easier, just writing tidbits each night. Usually they'll be up Friday, but since I've got a party tomorrow...**

**So yeah. Oh, and tell me the newsie name you want to be featured as.**

**Lots of love!**

**-iheartron547**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey!! I love you all so much for the comments I recieved for the last chapter. You all love Twirls and Mush, are jelous of Notes, and want more Bells/Race. To the fans of the latter, I hope you will be happy with the coming content.**

**In this chapter I am trying something new. Not only am I going to focus on Bells and really explore how she feels in more depth about the whole Twirls/Mush thing(if anybody can come up with a pet name, I would love you. You know, like Brangelina. Only using Twirls and Mush.)**

**So anyway, part of this chapter will be from Race's POV. I know he isn't a Brooklyn boy, but Mush and Race are going to begin to play such a big part in this story...plus, I did a POV from Notes and no one complained. So yeah.**

**xXxXxXxXxXxX**

In the following weeks, the Brooklynites noticed a few things; Spot was disappeared from Brooklyn more and more often, Pockets was sulking as a result of it, Bat Ears was jumpy and on edge, quite unlike his usual self, and Bells has grown depressed while Twirls acted as if she were high. All in all, it was confusion.

Bells, although she didn't know exactly where her brother was going off to, had her suspicions and no one to share them with. After going more than two days without seeing Mush, Twirls would become so unbearable that Bells gladly allowed her to venture over the bridge. The only downside of this arrangement was that Bells now had to sell the morning edition and then spend a double shift in the afternoon at the laundresses, causing her to even more cranky and irritable than a Mush-less Twirls. What was really bothering Bells though, was the fact that she had yet to and see Racetrack again, something she wanted to do badly it caused her stomach and chest to ache whenever she thought of him.

But how was she to explain to Twirls that it was _her _turn to go an visit the newsie who had so captured her interest? How was she suppose to explain to Twirls that she was starting to become annoyed with her sister's lapse of abbsence, that it was _Twirls' _turn to stay home and work three shirts a day? How could she do that without getting killed in an emotional if not psychical way? It just didn't seem fathomable.

And so, day after day she labored, the only motavation was that with each shift, she was maybe one workday closer to seeing Race. She saw his face as she scrubbed shirts, tailored skirts, or sewed holes in children's skockings. It was he whom she had a silent conversation with in her mind as all the other work girls talked among themselves. He was her companion; he just didn't know it.

One particular day, Bells stood hunched over the water tub, running a tattered, oil-stained shirt over and over again on the washboard, attempting without much success to remove as many of the stains as possible. She swore under her breath, and many of the girls looked at her questioning.

"Strong language there, Madison," one tall, prim girl named Rose said, inching away from her. "I didn't know a girl could speak so."

Rose was an educated girl who worked more for the fun of it, to be with her friends, more than the money. She looked down particularly on Bells, whom she thought was "so unedcated she wasn't worth being."

"I didn' know yah really considered yoahself a goil," Bells snapped, scrubbing even more furiously. "I was thinkin' moah of a dog. Yah know, a bitch?"

Rose lunged at her, splashing water every which way in attempt to get to Bells. Several girls restrained her, and Bells didn't even more. It wasn't worth the fight.

"You better watch it," Rose warned, returning to her mending, "because I could have you gone like that!" She snapped her fingers for inflection.

"Oh yeah?" Bells questioned. "Yah want a challenge?"

Rose shrugged.

"Sure, why not," she responded. "I would probably beat you at everything."

"Smarts related, prob'ly," Bells agreed. Rose appeared shocked Bells was agreeing with her. "But I have one thing yah won' have beat meh wit."

Rose held her needle and pursed her lips.

"Oh yeah? Name one."

Bells feigned thought, putting a finger to her chin and said, "Well, I don' know the capital o' anywheah, but I _do _know I've prob'ly been wit moah guys den yah."

Rose looked appalled as many of the girls tittered behind their work.

"Are you- are you calling me _prude?_" she asked.

Bells shrugged and drained the shirt, laying it to dry. As she did so, she said, "Maybe. Don' really know yah. But I do know that guys so wouldn' go foah yah."

Rose's nostrils flared, a sign she was angry.

"And how would you _know _so many guys?" she said. "Slept with them all?"

Bells simply rolled her eyes.

_As if, _she thought. _They all know Spot would kill 'em._

"Nah," she said to Rose, "jus' a good amount."

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

In Manhattan, at the Sheepshead Races, Racetrack Higgins sat forlornly in a box. To the passerby, he appeared a normal, lower class teenage boy. He dressed in too-big plain pants, a too-small white shirt and a vest overtop. His hair was pulled under his hat, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. He's been stealing and smoking way more since Emma's first visit with Mush.

Not that he blamed Emma or Mush. Mush was one of his very best friends. They had known each other since Mush had shown up at the lodging house nine years ago. They had grown up like brothers, brothers to trusted, respected, and worked well with one another. But now, Race was jelous. Jelous and angry.

Had could Madison not have come to see him by now? Emma had come many a time; all of the boys were becoming rather frustrated with the relationship. Never was there a moment the pair was not together, and Mush was quickly becoming quite inefficient when it came to his numbers. Not that Race was any better. He was spending nearly all his time at the races, trying to lose his woes in the competition that had usually grabbed his attention. But now it did nothing.

He shifted his postition with a sigh of discontentment, thinking that maybe the coming race would be his last for the day. As the gun went off the horses dashed out of the gates, someone called his name.

"Race?"

Race turned to find Mush standing akwardly a few yards behind him, looking somewhat guilty for being there.

"Hey man, can we talk?" Mush asked, keeping his distance until Race jerked his head in a nod. Mush approached and Race sat down on a wooden bench, Mush next to him. The silence hung between the two for a few moments until Race finally spoke out, "So what are yah doin' heah?"

Mush looked uncomfortable at the question, but the replied, "Well, everybody's been worried cuz yah've been all doom an' gloom an' stuff-not dat I've noticed, I thought yah were okay- but Jack was all, 'Go talk tah 'em. Yoah da only one who can.' So I really don' know why I'm heah."

Race snorted. "Course yah don'."

"Hey! Wha' is dat suppose tah mean?" Mush asked.

Race just shook his head.

"Yoah so dense," he said, knowing it was the one insult Mush couldn't handle.

"So I've hoid," Mush grumbled, not reacting the way he usually did. "But someone real special told meh no' tah let dat get tah me. So I'm not."

"Good foah yah," Race spat. "Glad yah've got yoah _someone special. _Even if she's a pain in da ass."

"Hey!" Mush stood up. The races were quite empty, it being noon on a weekday, but even so, the sparse lower-class crowds immedietly moved away from the two newsboys.

"Yah can badmouth me all yah want," Mush went on. "But don' insult Emma."

"Even if Emma is da cause of me 'sulkin' or whateva da hell Jack called it?" Race stood up to face Mush. "Cause she is. Yah've been so wrapped up in lovey dovey land that yah can' even hang wit us anymoah. Not even me, yoah 'best friend.' Or was I replaced by yoah 'best fucking partna?'"

Mush's face flushed a shade of red.

"It's not like that!" he said loudly. "And don' assume she's dat type o' goil! I can do betta den Mary!"

"Oh really?" Race taunted. "Didn' know yah could think foah longer den it took tah say-"

He never finished his sentence though, for Mush punched him clear across the face. Race stumbled and fell, feeling the blood rush out of his nose and down his face. Mush stood, chest heaving. All it took was one look from Race, seeing his best friend broken, for Mush to say, "Man, I'm sorry! I shouldn' a'-"

Race held up a hand and shook his head.

"Don' blame yoahself," he said. "I shoulda kept my mouth shut. I'm happy foah yah wit Emma an' all. Really."

Mush pulled Race to his feet and asked, "Yah mean dat?"

Race nodded and sat back down on the bench.

"Yeah, I do," he said. "I guess it's jus'..."

"What, man? Tell me."

Race took a breath.

"I'm jelous, I guess," he admitted. "Memba Madiosn? I kinda thought she woulda come tah see me befoah dis, like Emma had wit yah. I thought she liked me. I didn' know it was just all an act on her part."

"Maybe it wasn't," Mush said, clapping Race on the back. "Maybe she's scared. Maybe she's jus' not as 'out dere' as Emma. Maybe yah should, yah know, go tah her."

Race goggled at him; it was quite the funny picture as his face was coated with blood.

"Go see her? IN _Brooklyn_? Yah forget I'm not da emo one; dat's Skittery," Race said. "I don' have plans tah kill myself and going tah Brooklyn jus' seals my fate."

"Do yah want tah see Madison?" Mush asked.

"Yes."

"Are yah gonna go see her?"

Race stood up.

"Brooklyn, heah I come. An' tell Snipeshoota tah stay away from my cigars."

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Twirls gayly walked into the bunk room, a smile lighting up her face. The newsboys looked at with looks of discontent, for Bells was in the exact opposite mood from her twin. As Twirls pushed aside the curtain, the boys cleared the room and ran to fetch Spot, for a fight was sure to ensue.

"Heylo!" Twirls fell onto her sister's bunk. "How was your day?"

Bells had been hiding behind a paper; when she lowered it, Twirls could see the the look of rage the masked her sister's face.

"Oh, jus' peachy," Bells said. "Woiked a double shift at the laundresses, was tormented by the odda goils, wripped a seam, nearly got fired, and Spot almos' found out wheah yah've been!"

Twirls' eyes widened in shock.

"Yah covered, right?"

"Yes!" Bells slammed down the pape. "Like I've been doin' foah da past month! Yah've been out wit da boy while I've been bustin' my ass tah make sure Spot don' kill yah! An' wha' thanks do I get? None! No offer foah me tah go see Race! Nuttin'!"

"Well I'm sorry I finally found a guy!" Twirls shot back. "Yah get anyone yah want! I'm no' like dat! And I finally found someone and yah can' jus' let me be happy!"

"Oh don' give me dat shit!" Bells screamed. "If Spot-"

The curtain pulled back, revealing the boy in question.

"If I what?"

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Sorry this took longer! I've had a crazy week! No time to type! I broke my femur-random, I know but I will try to post weekly!!**

**Review and I love you all!**

**-iheartron547**


	11. Chapter 11

**So candyk8 was kind enough to point out some stupid mistakes i made in the last post. I really am sorry and let me know if there is anything at all I can fix to make this story a better piece.**

**I am so sorry that i did not post last week, but I have made this chapter extra long to compensate. My life is so crazy right now and I thank you all so much for sticking with me. **

**I really don't have much else to say, but I know the characters do!!**

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"If I what?"

Both twins looked up to see Spot glaring down at them, his nostrils flaring, something that only happened when he was supressing extreme anger.

"What is goin' on?" Spot asked, arms crossed his chest, Pockets on his right with Bat Ears lurking behind him, along with what seemed to be as many Brooklynites as the room could hold. They looked anxious to see what would go down, as every boy loved a good cat fight. But the whooping and hollaring was starting to get out of hand, and Pockets dismissed them with a few choice words and a glare. Bat Ears stayed behind.

"It's nothin," Bells said shortly, standing up to climb onto her bunk. Spot put a hand on her head and sat her back down.

"It's not 'nothin'," Spot said. "Now I don' know wha' yah were shoutin' about, but Bat Ears hoid yah. What is goin' on?"

Each sister stubbornly looked away from their brother and away from each other, determined not to crack and give anything away. For as angry as they were at each other, both twins did not want to lose the chance to see Race and Mush.

Spot gave them a few moments before attacking the weaker of the two, a fairly hard draw since both were stubborn girls, but Bells would cave quicker, if Spot played her correctly.

"Come'on," Spot said in a softer tone, kneeling down to be on level with Bells. "I don' need tah know every detail, but yah neva fight with Twoils. Wha' is up?"

Bells remained stone-faced.

"I know what yoah tryin' tah do," she said snarkly, looking at him, "an' it won' woik. This ain' yoah issue and we want yah tah stay out of it."

"Sorry, I can' do dat." Spot was back to his 'leader of Brooklyn' mode now; Mr. Nice Brother was over. "It's my job tah protect dis territory and I can' have yah two blowin' cova. Yoah issue becomes Brooklyn's issue."

"Oh, don' be da drama king," Twirls snapped. "Bells' right. Weah allowed tah keep _some _things private. No' all our business has tah be Brooklyn's."

"When yah can go out on yah own is when yah stop tellin' me wha' is goin' on!" Spot yelled. "When I don' have tah always look out foah yah an' make shoah yah don' get separated or sent off somewheah is da day yah can fight and shout all yah want and no' tell me! Mom and Da left me a job, Madison, and I am gonna do it! Yah and Emma are goils, foah God's sake! Wha' do yah know 'bout survivin' dese streets, livin' as a woiken goil wit no family? Huh? You'se be nuttin' witout da newsis, witout me! I have every right tah know wha' is goin' on, since I'm da one lookin' out foah yah!"

There was several intense, thick moments of unbearble silence before Bells stood up, fighting back tears. Her jaw was clench and she felt her eyes grow hot, but she was determined to show she was tough. She took one last look at her brother and stormed past.

"An' wheah are yah goin'?" Spot asked.

Bellsl turned back and said in a mocking tone, "I'm goin' tah dah docks, tah sit an' have a good cry ova da fact dat I'm not allowed tah see someone I want tah, someone I care about, because I"m bein' da good sista! Because I'm woiken two jobs! Dat enough detail foah yah, huh?"

She shook her head slowly at Spot's ataken back expression and stormed angerly down the stairs. The four remaining in the room heard the door slam after her.

"She'll be back," Twirls said quietly, her voice raspy. "An' if yah don' mind, I wanna go tah bed."

"Um, shoah, yah," Spot said, motioning for Pockets and Bat Ears tah follow him from the room. His head was swimming with dizzying thoughts, whether he was doing the right thing, what Bells was talking about, the pressing problem of Daggers.

"Yah okay?" Pockets asked. Spot nodded.

"I'll be fine," he said shortly. "Jus' keep everyone away from da docks. I'm goin' foah a walk."

He took off in a jog away from the house and Pockets watched him go before turning to Bat Ears.

"I'm gonna go check and make shoah no one is strayin' near da docks," the little newsie said. Pockets nodded and his brother ran off. Pockets watched him with a slight tug in his chest. _Bat Ears was growing up so qucikly..._Pockets shook his head. Now he sounded like his Ma.

"Hey, Pockets!" He turned to see the new newsie, Shamrock, looking at him curiously. Pockets privately thought this made his look queerer than everybody thought he already was.

"Yeah, wha' do yah want?" Pockets snapped. He sounded harsher than he meant too, but he didn't care. The boy seemed to take his temper in stride as well.

"Nuttin,'" Shamrock said, holding up his hands. "Jus' making shoah yoah okay."

"Yeah, jus' great," Pockets said. "Now go do some'in."

Shamrock nodded and ran off, leaving Pockets with a swarm of thoughts and a headache

**xXxXxXxXxXxX**

Bells sat on the edge of the dock, letting the cool summer water of the river splash against her legs, soaking her socks and the hem of her skirt. With each splash and ripple her kicking legs made, she felt the anger slowly drain out of her, replaced by tiredness and the need for a good sleep.

She gazed at the setting sun, wondering how something so beautiful could still be so simple. She suddenly had a deep longing for her mother again, because for some reason the remembered with the sun. That was how her mom was though-she rose and set with her mood. One day she was the sweet, gentle loving woman that Bells loved best and the next she would be reduced to a sick, weak shadow, someone that Bells didn't like to see.

These thought and memories began to fill her head and she closed her eyes for a moment, almost as if wishing hard enough would take her back to that time, when life was just Ma, Andrew, Emma, and her. Da was gone, that stress taken away, and life was simple but happy. Now it was confusing and draining, miserable at points, and Bells didn't like it.

The stomp of boots made her head whip around to find a lanky but muscular boy crounched beneath the bulkhead, clearly having just jumped. He stood up, showing his full and impressive but not overly frightful height. He looked down at Bells with smokey dark eyes that drew her in instantly, crinkling at the edges as he smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his long dark black hair. Bells felt her heart flutter. She bit her lip.

"Uh, sorry," the boy said. Her pointed behind him and added, "I can go..."

Bells shook her a little to quickly, scolding herself for looking eager.

"Nah, yoah fine," she said. "Can I ask why yoah heah though?"

"Nosy, aren' yah?" the boy teased, but he came and sat beside her. "But I came tah see these." His hand waved across the skyline, the sun painting the sky all colors, framing New York.

"It is amazin'," Bells said softly. "Yah can just look at it an'-"

"-forget." Bells looked at the boy's profile in suprise.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Exactly." She looked at him for another moment and then added, "Okay, I don' even know who yah are an' yet yoah finishin' my sentences."

He looked down at her with a grin and nodded.

"Do yah want tah know me?" he asked wryly. Bells smirked at him, but held out her hand.

"Madison."

He took it, his touch rough but comforting at the same time.

"Damien."

They shook slowly, neither wanting to break the grasp, for something felt right with him. Bells mentally could hear her sister scolding her for the incessant flirting, but Bells blocked her out. This wasn't about Twirls.

"No' an Irish than," Bells joked. "Definetly didn' see yah at the St. Patty's Day parties."

"Nah, nah, yah didn't," Damien agreed. "Kinda wish I had run inta yah though. Yah seem nice. Fun. Uncomplicated tah be with, yah know?"

Bells snorted at his last remark.

"Trus' me," she said ruthfully, "I need a map tah figure me out."

"That bad?" Damien asked.

"Yah have know idea," she admitted. But why was she just blurting this all out to a boy she had just met? Because he seems to care, she reasoned with herself.

"I can relate," he said, leaning back on his elbows. "I've been woikin' in a shop since I was ten, lyin' about my age. Mom dead, dad drunk, barely providin' foah me an my younga sister. Older one ran off with some guy twice her age afta sleepin' wit half o' New York."

Bells' mouth fell open slightly. Her problems sounded so stupid, and so very juvenille next to his. Romance issues? Problems with her sister? Dressing as boy everyday? Newsie issues? It suddenly sounded rediculous to her head.

"Wow," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It's all I got, so I gotta make da best o' it. I'm hopin' tah save up enough, find me a goil, and give my kids a betta life den I had."

"That's amazin'," Bells said. "Can I ask yah some'in though? Well, two actually."

Damien nodded.

"Go ahead."

"Okay, foist," Bells began. "Did yoah sista-da one who was um, gettin' around? Did she ever come across a Spot Conlon?"

The name seemed to strike a chord with Damien, which what Bells was afraid of. His face suddenly turned dark and he looked almost evil, a devil angel or some form of a beautiful darkness.

"Yeah, I know Conlon," he said. "Da bumma. Lead my sista on, took her 'round Brooklyn, showed her everything, slept with her, and left her. But I guess dat's how all da newsies are. To good foah one goil."

This was not what Bells was expecting. The bit about Spot sounded right, but everything else?

"Wha' do yah mean?"

Damien mouth curled into an evil sneer and he said venomously, "Higgins."

Bells' eyes widened. She knew a Higgins...

"Do you, uh, mean Racetrack?" she asked in a little voice, almost afraid to hear the answer. _Please don' let it be him_...

"Yeah, if dat's what dey call 'em," Damien said. "Anthony. He was da woist. Hurt her da woist."

"Wow, I didn' know he was like dat..."

"Yah'd be suprised wha' some boys do," Damien said, looking at her with his smoldering eyes. "He ruined my sista's life. Left her alone and with a burden."

"Wha' do yah mean?" Bells asked, wanting to know, longing to.

Damien looked at her for another moment before saying softly, "He left my sister with a baby."

Bells felt her heart stop. Her brain wasn't working, wasn't putting two and two together.

"Oh, God..."

Racetrack. The one she had been pining over...she knew he was a year or two older but she didn't realize he was like that...

"Madison?"

Damien was looking at her with a look of upmost concern. "Are yah okay?"

"Fine, fine," she lied. "Um, anyway, that's foah tellin' me all dat. But my second question: why did yah tell me?"

"Cause I trust yah," Damien said simply. He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And because I wanna see yah again, if dat okay."

Bells nodded.

"Of course."

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"So, wha' is new boys?" Daggers Smith looked at the two boys in front of him with a sneer. "News?"

"Pockets is crackin'," Dash said. "He's miserable since Spot's been off."

Daggers nodded.

"Good," he said, steepling his fingers. "Very good. We'll need him tah crack if Conlon's gonna ultimately."

"Dat goil is doin' her job well," Dash commented. Daggers nodded.

"Remind me tah thank her wit some'in nice next time we'se checkin' in on her."

Dash nodded, glad to help Daggers. He was a bit of a suck up.

"And now you, Bat Ears," Daggers said, turning to the terrified Brooklynite. "How are my goils?"

"In a fight," Bat Ears mumbled. "Not really sure about what."

"Is dat the truth?" Daggers questioned. Bat Ears nodded. He had purposely made sure he did not know a detail of what was going on with the twins for he did not want to sell them out or have Daggers get the reason out of him.

"I jus' know dat they're fightin' and Twoils is neva around," Bat Ears said.

Dash looked at Daggers.

"It's 'cause-"

Daggers held up a hand.

"He doesn't have to know," Daggers commanded even though Bat Ears desperatly wanted to find out where Twirls had been.

"What about da sista?"

"Bells had been tired, woikin' a lot," Bat Ears said. "Sad. I think she misses somebody."

"Yes, well dat twin has been taken care of," Daggers said. "I had someone very important make sure o' dat."

Dash twitched. It hadn't been him and he thought himself rather important.

"Wha' did yah do?" Bat Ears demanded.

"Calm down," Daggers said lazily. "She's fine. Jus' troubled. But she's right wheah we want 'er."

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

Racetrack couldn't believe his eyes. She was with someone else. Someone who just touched her.

He watched his disbelief as the boy tucked her hair back. He couldn't see the offender's face, but he didn't have to. That's why Madison had been ignoring him. She had moved on.

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

**I'm so sorry that it just left so many holes like that, but you'll see what's going to happen!! Don't judge any character, because they are not all what you may be thinking.**

**I have to say I am feeling compassion for Crutchy because I have been on crutches myself and they are a pain! I couldn't imagine running around New York on them. Ugh. PAIN!**

**So anyway, thank you all for reading and I hoped you liked this!!**

**-iheartron547**


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